A Debt Paid Part 1
by skag trendy
Summary: Dean felt absolute fear too many times in his life; Sam being held hostage by Gordon Walker and thrown into a raging river didn't help. Limp Sam and protective Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Name:** Skag Trendy

**Disclaimer:** I own bugger all. Not even my own home, but then it's bloody difficult to own anything where I live. The States of the Island of Jersey don't much like Essex tossers like me coming in and stealing their jobs. I'm a _foreigner…._

**Characters:** Sam and Dean Winchester, Gordon Walker, Sergeant Terry Morgan, and Captain Sadler (though hopefully not for long – I don't like this bloke).

Ok so I own Terry and Captain Sadler; that's a hard one to admit ….Terry is based on a combination of my Dad and my husband, both of whom are tough Essex bastards (both of them having a heavy load of Irish in them) but don't readily admit to it. Also there's a little bit of Chris Ryan and Sean Bean thrown in, just for good measure.

Captain Sadler is based on someone that I really hope I never have to meet again. 'Cos if I do I may have to smack 'im one…

**Content:** some violence, though nothing too bad, but mostly a lot of swearing.

**Genre:** I only have this to say: If you have a problem with it, then you probably shouldn't have been watching Supernatural in the first place….

Welcome to my first net-published fan fic. It's not complete. I just thought I'd warn you…..

I don't know when this is set, you'll have to figure that one out for yourselves. I'm just making it up as I go along.

So here goes…. (I can't believe I'm doing this….)

**A Debt paid.**

_**A Supernatural Fan Fiction**_

Sergeant Terry Morgan of the 22nd SAS regiment, sat on the bonnet of his crappy little rental and wondered.

He was stuck out in Canada, which admittedly wasn't the worst place he'd been stuck in, but it was gone 23:00 and he was seriously getting pissed off.

The rental was fucked, it was colder than a polar bear's jock strap, his orders to come here could be considered in a generous light as "somewhat dodgy", and now he had no wheels.

Normally he could have fixed the bastard, but not this time.

Too far gone.

_Yeah,_ he thought to himself, _come on yanks and pimp my fucking ride why don't ya?_

So there he was, on some wooden bridge in the middle of fucking nowhere, with what appeared to be a scene from "The River Wild."

Terry sat there wondering what he'd really done to deserve this. The ciggy in his hand was burning away faster than he could smoke it in this cold night. He tried again to get a reception on his mobile phone, but to no avail.

Bollocks.

The only consolation he had was the look on his C.O's face when he didn't turn up for tomorrows briefing.

Not that he ever had any respect for his C.O. Captain Sadler. He was a man that liked to play things by the book, whereas Terry really couldn't be fucking bothered.

"Fuck the book." He whispered to himself. That was The Regiment way of things.

But mainly, it was because Sadler was a bastard. A real one.

Just as he was considering a brew up at the side of the road, Terry heard two things

The first one was a normal motor, probably a van. But it was revving too hard.

The second sound was beautiful. It was the sound of a perfectly honed V8 engine, also revving hard.

The duel sound rounded the corner. A plain white van, closely followed by a gleaming black Chevy. A 1967 Impala in fact. Now Terry was more of a fan of supercars with fucking great six or seven litre V12 engines, but this….

Terry breathed deeply. This was fucking _sweet_ mate.

Dean was desperately trying to keep up with the van. He tried to swallow the fear that was coursing through him, but it was hard. His brother was in there. Gordon had caught up with them at last, and now Sam's life hung in the balance.

There was a bridge coming up.

Dean took a chance that he normally wouldn't have considered. He reached for the H&K and leaned out the window. Struggling to keep the Impala in a straight line he aimed…..

…and opened fire.

The rear off-side wheel of the van exploded under the impact, rocking the van a little, but it carried on going. Then Dean fired again and another wheel blew out.

The van came to a shuddering halt, but amazingly didn't crash.

Dean heaved a sigh of relief.

Terry watched with interest as the scene unfolded. It wasn't his job to get involved, after all.

His job was to _stay in the background._

Here was something different. This didn't feel right to Terry, and he was seriously considering a retreat into the forest that surrounded the area.

But he stayed a while longer just to see how things played out, after all, no one seemed to notice him.

I'm obviously doing my job right, he thought. In spite of what Captain Fuckwit had tried to tell him.

The door to the van burst open, revealing two men. The young white guy was clearly the hostage, with his hands tied behind his back and the knife stuck against his throat. The black guy was obviously the abductor, given that he was the one holding the knife to the man's jugular.

Well that bit _was _fucking obvious.

"Sam!" yelled the man jumping out from the Chevy.

Terry could tell that the hostage was in no real position to call back.

So he just continued his vigil.

"Dean." Terry heard the other bloke whisper loudly, and the hostage went up in Terry's estimation. _You've got guts mate._

The black bloke tightened the knife against his prisoner's neck, causing him to release a strangled gasp. "I told you what would happen Dean!" Yelled the black man. "Now drop your fucking weapon, now!" His eyes looked manic.

The guy called Dean raised his hand in a placating gesture, then slowly crouched and placed his gun on the ground. "Ok Gordon, now let him go". His voice was perfectly controlled but the Sergeant could tell that he was under some serious stress. Dean just as slowly straightened up.

There's your first mistake, thought Terry, calmly watching the events unfold. You should have taken him out whilst you had the chance. You never dropped your weapon, never gave your only shot away….

Terry watched as the bloke, _Gordon_, and his hostage _Sam_, moved to the edge of the bridge. Sam was struggling to maintain his cool at this point but Terry could see the lad was scared. It was in the way he held himself, though there were no street lights and Terry couldn't really make out the faces all that well by the car beams.

In spite of all that, something was starting to click in Terry's tired brain, but he was given no real time to think about it. The wooden railing had been there too long without proper care, and now it had the weight of two fully grown men leaning heavily against it. Suddenly the rotted wood gave way.

Relinquishing his hold on Sam and the knife, Gordon reached out a hand at the last moment and grasped onto the remains of the bridge, but the younger man didn't stand a chance. Terry watched as Sam took a tumble into the raging rapids below.

Barely giving it a thought, Terry took off and leapt over the railing on his side of the bridge. If he _had _taken the time to think about it then he probably wouldn't have bothered.

It was a long drop, and already he could feel the pounding of the river deep below him.

Vaguely he heard Dean yelling in panic and frustration, but this was soon drowned out by the booming of the water.

Terry found himself plunging into what felt like ice, and then was surrounded by a heavy gloom.

Fuck a duck it's cold, he thought.

The water was mostly melted snow coming off the mountains so he really shouldn't have been too surprised at the icy temperature.

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"Sammy!!"

Dean had watched in horror as his kid brother had fallen from the bridge. His instincts were a little torn; a small part of him, the unreasonable part, wanted to go after Gordon, who was even now struggling to climb back up to safety, but mainly he wanted to go to Sam. That was when he'd noticed the guy on the other side of the bridge leap off the hood of his car and follow Sam into the river.

Dean didn't hesitate. He started running along the river bank, his heart pounding.

Dean was afraid of a number of things now. Chiefly, the drop, the water and the fact that his brother couldn't swim, what with his hands tied behind his back. But also that Sam was now in the water with someone _else_, who in Dean's considered opinion had to be just a little in sane to have jumped into the river in the first place. If that guy was in with Gordon then big trouble lay ahead for Sam.

Great. Sam's either gonna drown or be murdered by a psycho.

So far this gig was really starting to suck balls.

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Sam had tried his best to keep his head above the water-line, but it was proving too big a task. And he was tiring. He kept kicking his legs and moving his body, trying desperately to breathe but each time he got a face full of water. And it was seriously starting to slow him down. The river was moving too fast for him and the cold was already setting in. In fact, it had the moment he'd hit the water, and that impact alone had driven his breath away.

Terry surged upwards in the water, and finally his head broke the surface just as Sam went under again.

He could hear someone shouting, and did his best to ignore it as he surged forward. He managed to glance around him and saw Sam had come up ahead of him, just as he was about to go down again.

Using the force and direction of the river, Terry managed to get close enough to the bloke and wrap his arms around his waist. With Sam facing forward, Terry kept a firm a grip.

"It's alright mate" Terry yelled above the raging noise, knowing even as he said it that was stretching a point _really_ thin. _I don't 'alf talk some shit at times._

Dean, running alongside the river, had seen the guy in the water grab Sam and he started to panic. If this guy was an associate of Gordon's then his little brother was dead meat.

But what he witnessed next didn't suggest that. The stranger was trying to keep Sam's head _above _the water, and Dean felt a small surge of relief.

It was short lived.

Terry looked at the path facing them. He had tried to talk to Sam, to find out what had lead to all this, but the deafening roar of the river put pay to that plan.

Instead what he saw ahead was……going to be a problem. He could hear Sam choking on the water as it swept them along and thought about what was coming up. Terry decided that a change in tactics was due, and so used the current to turn them around.

And with Terry's body becoming a human shield for Sam, he slammed into the hard surface.

Dean had been following them all the way, desperately trying to get ahead as well as coming up with a plan. And he was failing miserably on both counts. He saw the stranger in the water swiftly turn himself around so that his back was facing the direction they were headed.

What the f…..?

The Dean saw it. The huge boulder loomed on the angry water, with sharp edges and, above all, an extremely hard surface. The two men in the water were being pulled towards it at an alarming rate.

The stranger struck the rocks.

Dean winced in sympathy.

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Terry gasped and took a few ragged breaths. He really wished he wasn't here.

A nice place in Thailand came to mind. Preferably with plenty of beer and lot's of young women with barely any clothes on.

But this was fucking bollocks!

And vaguely realized that he'd shouted that out loud. But at least he and the yank he was holding onto were in some kind of stable position.

Terry became aware that someone was shouting at him.

Not a good thing to do to a man who was on the verge of beating the living shit out of something.

Luckily, the water wasn't so violent in its movement here; it was a small lagoon of sanity in one big fucking insane river.

Terry looked up into the green-eyed gaze of Dean, and swore viscously. His back hurt, so did his ribs, and he knew that someone, somewhere, was in for a severe telling off.

Sam choked again and gasped "c-can you untie me p-please?"

Terry reached below the water line and just managed to grasp the knife in his right boot. Bringing it up he severed the rope binding the hands of his young charge. Sam shivered whilst rubbing his wrists, and turned to look at the man who had somehow prevented his watery death.

"Thanks." His grateful smile fading, Sam saw the look on the man's face and wondered just how thankful he should be.

The guy was clearly in a bad mood; his eyes carried that maddened gleam that he'd often seen in his brother's eyes when he'd truly pissed him off. The stranger must have been in his mid-thirties, with short blonde hair and slate-blue eyes.

He tried again, though he was painful with the cold. "I'm S-Sam W-Winchester."

Terry, still feeling somewhat browned off by this point reacted in the best way he knew how. "Yeah, and I'm Rip Van Fucking Winkle, and I have a season ticket at Arsenal!"

Sam laughed at that. He followed English Football and knew how shit Arsenal could be. Besides, Sam was a Man U supporter. It was a left over from his days at Stanford when he'd befriended an English guest lecturer. It wasn't something he'd bothered to mention to Dean.

"Yeah. Th-They could certainly use a change of m-manager. Or p-perhaps replacing the entire team would be a g-good m-move." He responded, earning a snort of laughter from the other guy in the water.

Sobering a little, Terry stared up at the young bloke, Sam's introduction finally catching up with him.

This was the first look he'd really gotten at him. Terry was only about 5"7' but Sam was at the very least about 6"4'. And he'd thought that Dean was tall enough. Somehow neither of them looked like the photographs he'd been presented with.

He was looking at his next mission.

Oh shit.

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"Hey!" Dean yelled, "You one lucky son-of-a-bitch you know that?!" He was standing on the river bank just above Terry and Sam, feeling elated that his younger brother was still alive.

Terry, who'd had about as much as he could take by this point, yelled back "Yeah, thanks for fucking telling me!" Much to Dean's surprise. Even Sam had a hard time not laughing at the affronted look on his brother's face. It felt good to see someone take Dean down a peg.

The Englishman patted Sam on the shoulder, and heaving a much needed sigh he let Sam go. "Be careful with your feet when you get past this rock." He muttered just loudly enough to hear above the river.

Sam nodded, seeing the edge of the river where his brother was standing. There was another boulder between this one and the shore, so Sam had to try and surge forward so that he wouldn't get swept away again. The water may not have been moving so fast here but the current was still powerful. He balanced on the balls of his feet and then swam forward.

He just made it to the other side, feeling the water pulling on his body, but then his long legs were a strong advantage. He could touch the bottom, providing him with a much needed kick-off. Dean was waiting to haul him out of the water, and Sam started shivering again. His brother shrugged out of his coat and placed it around Sam's shoulders.

"You okay Sammy?" At Sam's nod, Dean turned to the guy in the water.

"Come on get outa there before you freeze to death!" He stretched his arm out along the water, offering his hand.

Terry had watched as Sam made his way to the river's edge, just to make sure he got there ok, ready to reach out and catch him if he slipped. On hearing Dean shout to him, he crossed to the next boulder, but encountered a problem. As he had previously noticed he wasn't as tall as Sam, and therefore found he had no way off kicking off from the bottom to allow more momentum. In fact he found that he couldn't even touch the bottom without going under.

He threw out his hand to receive salvation…..

….but the current was too strong.

With a long drawn out "Fuuuccckkkk!" Terry was immediately swept away from between the rocks, and once more down the river.

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The Winchester brother's anxious shouts were drowned out by the noise.

Without another word, Sam and Dean carried on running down the river bank.

They'd lost sight of the guy long ago and would have given him up for dead, except that Sam wouldn't stop. Dean could understand that; the guy had saved his life and he didn't even know his name.

Other than Rip Van Winkle.

The brothers had been running for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality it was just a couple of hours, when they came to a halt trying to take in their surroundings. The moon was sliding down the sky and dawn was on the approach.

Sam leaned against a tree and slowly slid down it, feeling exhaustion set in. But with all the running on the rough terrain, not to _mention_ occasionally running into the branches that his brother had deliberately allowed to snap back into him, at least he was no longer cold. In fact his clothes were starting to steam as the river water evaporated.

Dean, who had been staring out over the river searching for any sign of human life, turned back to his younger brother.

"Well Sammy, I gotta tell ya, you really suck at being Flipper ya know that?" Dean smirked.

Sam gave him the finger and closed his eyes for a second, then opened them abruptly when he felt a jolt.

Dean was crouching next to him. "Don't you go to sleep! I'm not carrying your sorry ass back up river."

"Yeah like you could" came the exhausted reply, his eyes closed again.

"Ah Sammy. Is that the best ya can do?"

"Fuck you Dean" Sam answered with no real malice. He was too tired for that.

"Sam! I am _shocked_ at your language."

"Shocked? You? That's a first."

"Yeah well, I'm usually the one doing the shocking-"

"-got that damn straight-"

"-when the ladies see just how big-"

"-Dean!" Sam's eyes flew open again, wide this time. "This is not the conversation I wanna be having with you." He got abruptly to his feet and turned to face his brother, ignoring the smug grin on Dean's face. "We gotta find that guy."

The grin faded. The trade mark Winchester Bickering session officially put on hold for now, Dean nodded. "You realize the chances of him still being alive are pretty slim Sam."

Sam huffed. "Yeah. But I need to know one way or the other."

Dean was silent for a moment. "We should call in help. Mountain rescue or something."

Sam gave a humourless laugh. "My phone got fucked in the river, and yours got shot out of your hand when Gordon attacked us." He shook his head. "Not an option. We do this alone."

"Right. Let's go."

They both carried on making their way along the river's edge.

"And Dean?"

"Yeah!"

"I get one more branch in the face and I swear to god you'll be wearing it up ya ass."

"Like to see ya try that ya big girl"

"Jerk."

"Tree-bi tch."

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Terry was not a happy little bunny.

He'd been able to keep his head above water for most of the time, mainly by sheer bloody-mindedness, but had still managed to swallow what seemed like most of the river by the time he heard it.

The water had slowed a little by now but not enough to allow him to strike out to the river's edge and welcoming safety. And so he free flowed down the rapids for quite some time, occasionally striking the odd rock and bouncing off, breaking a rib, tearing a muscle, but otherwise he was still alive.

He supposed he should have been grateful for that, but gratitude was the last thing he was feeling.

Terry carried on swearing loudly. It made him feel a little better.

And where were all the floating logs, the low over-hanging tree branches….the dead animal carcasses, any of the usual river debris he'd expected to find?

Anything just to help him get out of this fucking river?

A rocket fuelled hover craft would have been nice.

Any kind of craft in fact.

A teaspoon that he could use for a rudder, even.

Then, in the distance there was the booming noise.

Recognizing it, the expression on Terry's face had quite a lot to say about Lady Luck, and in particular what he was going to do with her once he'd caught up with the bitch.

_My cock going up her arse for one thing….._

Managing to look ahead of him, Terry spotted the tell tale sign of the start of a waterfall. The horizon cut off sharply as the water flowed over it. Desperately he attempted once again to strike out to the shore, but it was like trying to, well, swim against the tide.

Ha bloody ha.

_I'm going to bend her over….._

He struggled violently, taking in more water and spluttering as he approached the waterfall with increasing speed.

…_then I'm going to…._

Teetering on the edge for a second, which he _swore_ the Luck bitch had done deliberately just to aggravate him, he glanced over.

His eyes widened angrily at the drop awaiting him.

…_.give it to her right up the dirt box!_

He was swept over.

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During the running crusade, Dean and Sam were having their own private thoughts. It was bound to lead to an argument later, but for now they were both content to keep quiet. Besides, the journey was tough going and neither one of them were given over to a heart-to-heart slagging match right now.

_But….._

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It had to be said that Dean was getting more than a little pissed off by now, and that his increasingly silent, and above all stubborn little brother was probably the cause. Sam had been careless in getting himself abducted _once again_. And, as a result, several events had started to play out that explained Dean's bad mood.

He'd been lucky. Dean, coming back from the bar after a night of hustling, had just been pulling up to the motel room when he'd seen Gordon roughly shoving his trussed-up brother into the back of a van. (If Dean hadn't decided to leave the bar when he did…..)

Gordon on realizing that Dean was back had fired his gun. At this point, Dean had taken out his cell phone with the intention of calling Bobby for back-up, so unfortunately, depending on which way you looked at it, the bullet missed him and struck his cell in a shower of sparks, forcing Dean to drop it.

His beloved phone, with his beloved ring tone of "Smoke over water" was totaled.

And there had been the high speed car chase, which admittedly had been pretty cool, although nearly wrapping his _equally _beloved car round a tree hadn't (he'd make damn sure Sam paid for _that_ one at a later date).

Then there was the little fact that he'd been force to shoot the tires out on the van, something he'd been trying to avoid seeing as his little brother was in there. But he'd had little choice; the Impala was fast running out of gas and Dean had no idea how much fuel Gordon's van had left. He couldn't risk letting him spirit Sam away with no means of pursuit.

_Then_ there was the _cliché_ hostage negotiation scene, which was the kind that Dean really hated where his brother was concerned although he should have been getting pretty expert at them by now. He just didn't like the thought of aiming his gun in Sam's direction. He'd promised to keep him safe, and shooting your brother by accident whilst trying to take down a crazed hunter probably didn't qualify.

_And then_, for fuck sake, the bridge railing had given way, causing Sam to plummet into the watery depths of one mean mother-fucker of a river.

_And now_ they were running along the river bank, feet blisters developing rapidly, searching for the guy who'd saved Sam's life (where Dean had failed) who was probably long dead and making like the worlds biggest waterlogged corpse since the Captain of the Titanic had discovered the passengers were getting a bit wet……

All in all, it had been one shit-filled day.

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Proving once again that there must have been some kind of telepathy going on between the brothers, Sam had a theory.

It was quite valid and one he'd been working on for some time. He'd even given it a proper title, and this was:

"Why Does This Shit Keep Happening To Me?"

Ok so it wasn't the best title in the world but it certainly summed things up nicely for Sam.

As he followed his brother's running feet along the river bank, it occurred to him that "this shit" hardly ever seemed to happen to Dean.

Well, it did Sam supposed.

There was the demon-related car "accident" that had resulted in dad trading his life for Dean's, and then the aftermath of that…..

And then there was Dean's little paddy (using a crowbar to smack the shit out of the Impala he was trying to restore) when Sam had tried to talk to him about those events…..

After all, what happened to one sibling had direct consequences for the other, right? But why was it always Dean that came up against said consequences and Sam just had….

...shit?

He pondered this.

Suddenly, remembering how his brother's mind worked, he understood that he may have to face some consequences of his own later.

Oh fucking dear.

Sam, realizing that his theory may need some work, came to a rather worrying conclusion:

He was going to get into a lot of trouble for all this.

And _he knew _saying "sorry Dean" just wasn't going to cut it.

It really sucked being the youngest.

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Gordon had finally managed to pull himself back up onto the bridge just as he noticed Dean disappearing from sight along the river bank.

"Sonofabitch" he muttered. Gordon hadn't seen the strange figure jump off the other side of the bridge. If he had then he might not have wasted anymore time.

But as it was, he lay there on the wooden planks breathing heavily whilst he tried to think.

What had gone wrong? He thought to himself.

Dean Unpredictable Fucking Winchester that's what!

He shot the fucking tires out!

Gordon should have known.

He really should. Dean would have taken any risk if it meant getting his little Demon-bitch brother back in once piece.

Though Gordon knew the chances of Sam not becoming fish food the minute he'd hit the water were slim to none, he wasn't about to take the chance he was still alive. For one thing, Gordon was _convinced_ Sam was a demon-soldier in the making. And a demon wouldn't kill one of its own, right?

He was starting to feel a little better.

(Gordon was well known for his excellent hunter instincts. But he was also well known for not thinking outside the box, particularly where the Winchester's were concerned.)

These things never went to plan, but it always paid to have a back-up. And thinking of the terrain around him, he realized that back-up was about to be called into play.

The Winchester Hunters were once again about to become the Hunted.

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Sam and Dean were still running when the sun was just about to peak over the horizon, the indigo sky starting to change colour. They stopped at the waterfall and both men felt exhausted enough to fall where they stood. Hardly holding out any hope of finding the English guy alive now, they carried on picking their way carefully down the rocky rivers' edge until they reached the bottom.

There was a reasonably calm lake of water at the base of the waterfall, and Sam stepped out onto the rocks, his feet thudding on the surface. Looking all around him, he spoke.

"Dean? You see 'im?"

"Nah. Not yet." Dean had stepped up beside his brother and they stood virtually back to back, their eyes searching the landscape. They turned around each other, seemingly on a pivot.

It took them a while.

Under other circumstances, this would have been a peaceful place. The mountains in the distance seemed to stretch out, and in between there was the calm lake and forests. But the Winchesters were having trouble reconciling that scene with the search and so-called "rescue" going on in their minds.

Suddenly, Dean spotted what they were looking for. "Sam! Over here!" And together they jumped off the rocks, hitting the ground running as they headed to the other side of the lake.

Laying face down in the mud was the body of a man, his black coat clinging to his still form. The black jeans were covered in the silt from the river as was his hair.

Sam recognized him as the guy who'd appeared in the water, and shouted out.

"Hey! You all right man?"

The guy still wasn't moving. There was no sign of life, but the tracks in the mud suggested that who ever he was, he was stubborn; he'd lived long enough to pull himself out of the lake.

The brothers dropped down beside the guy, and, with a heavy heart, Sam was about to reach out to check for a pulse when the body twitched.

Then coughed. Violently.

Heaving himself up onto his hands, the stranger hacked some more before swearing, and then rolled himself over onto his back.

Terry blinked a few times, waiting for reality to come back into focus. When it did, there were two young anxious looking men staring down at him.

Ok. Not the semi-naked Thai girls he'd been hoping for but it fucking beat the alternatives. His CO for one. Now where was the beer?...

That's when it all came back to him, the plunge into the water, getting Sam to safety, swearing at Dean, the waterfall…….

Ah. The mission. That was gonna be a bloody tricky one.

Aware that the blokes were trying to talk him, he waved them into silence.

Terry sat up on his elbows, winced from the bruised ribs, and lay back down again, eyes closed for a second.

"It's really gonna be one of those fucking days isn't it." He opened his eyes again, daring the lads to answer.

It clearly wasn't a question.

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Gordon knew he was getting close. He'd been tracking the Winchesters since the bridge.

Having hauled his rifle out of the van, attached optical sights, along with plenty of ammo, he'd taken to his heels immediately in pursuit. One thing that was playing on his mind was why in hell they hadn't turned back to reclaim Dean's precious Impala.

Gordon had been following Dean's trail for some time when he came across a slight bend in the river. It had been obvious and easy to spot, especially as Dean wouldn't have been thinking about covering his tracks.

And so that bend told him a lot.

Sam was still alive. For a start, the extra set of large footprints suddenly appearing in the mud besides Deans had made that clear.

So why had they not turned back?

He decided not to worry about that. Because for now, the hunt was well and truly _on._

Gordon smiled menacingly.

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Dean stared down at the man who had saved his brother, and agreed with his initial conclusion.

Yeah, this guy was completely in sane. And really fucking angry with it, though he'd been pretty pissed the last time Dean had seen him.

Sam gave the stranger a friendly smile and offered him a hand.

Terry stared at the boys before him, remembering what he'd read about them.

_Boys. _

_These two are the Winchester brothers, and I just referred to them as boys. The oldest of which is not far off ten years younger than me._

_I must be getting fucking old._

He accepted the hand of the youngest lad, the one with the long hair, and with a bit of help got to his feet.

Terry already knew their names. And what with Sam having formerly introduced himself before Terry had gone for an involuntary surf lesson, he felt that perhaps it was time to offer a name for himself.

"The name's Terry." He felt the need for another spell of coughing before looking back up at them.

Sam, he realized, was still concerned for his welfare, whereas Deans' look was more guarded.

And so it fucking should be, Terry thought.

Sam gave Terry another one of his smiles. "Glad you're still alive. Thanks for what you did." It was genuine, but simply stated which Terry was eternally thankful for. He hated mushy stuff.

Terry guessed from the state of them that they'd followed him down river, and that must have been miles. He glanced at his watch.

05:00?!? When he'd taken a free fall from the bridge it had only gone past 23:00!

Not only had they bothered to follow him all that way, but _he was still alive!_

He realized that an answer was required. He stuttered and stumbled a bit around this one; he wasn't used to receiving thanks for his work. It was all for, hah! Queen and country.

_When I'm sent out to assassinate one Winchester and capture the other…_

_A couple of young lads that just lost their dad….._

_And the young twats had stuck around to make sure __**I**__ was ok…._

"S'no problem. Don't mention it" he muttered. And then slowly started to fall forward as cold, exhaustion, at least three broken ribs, and a host of other pains he hadn't remembered, suddenly caught up with him and laughed in his face.

_Queen and country my arse!_

_The worse part is they don't realize that I was asked to come here by their own fu cking country._

_Fu cking yanks….._

Those were his last thoughts before his world went blissfully dark for a while.

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Part 2 to follow soon boys and girls...

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	2. Chapter 2

**A Debt Paid Part 2**

Dean had been thinking about this for a while now, and he wasn't happy.

"I don't know Sam. I'm not sure we can trust him."

"Dean, the guy saved my life. What dya expect me to do? Just leave him here?"

At Dean's nod Sam retorted "Dude, we're not gonna just leave him here."

Dean shrugged. Though he was grateful that he didn't have to organize another impromptu funeral for what was left of his family, it still didn't ease the nagging voice in the back of his head. Something was very wrong here.

This guy…..

Where did he come from? Why was he here?

It could have been coincidence, but Dean had learned early on his young life to realise two things: one was to listen to his instincts, and the other was not to give in to apparent _coincidence_.

There was no such thing, and neither was this. He was sure of it. Something was off here and he knew it had something_ big _to do with Terry, if that was even his real name.

There was a moan from the guy still lying on the ground.

Sam had done his best to strap up Terry's broken ribs, but he really wasn't sure how badly he was hurt. The younger Winchester gave his brother a searing glance before he sat back down by the Englishman.

"Terry? You ok man?"

Terry groaned and opened his eyes. Dean looked into those eyes and was struck again by what he saw in them.

_This guy is used to __**serious**__ command. He's got to be military….._

Terry sat up and looked around, his eyes wild. Though, not wild with panic, Dean noticed. Just with an obsessive need to know the landscape. He'd seen it on his father's face from time to time.

It spoke of many things.

But what it mainly spoke of was _survive, find the enemy, kill the enemy, get out._

Yeah, thought Dean. Whether or not he could be trusted remained to be seen, but what was certain was that this guy had been in service. And judging by the accent, that service had been the British Army. But if the stories his dad had told him were true, then this guy wasn't "ordinary" British Army.

This man had willingly, some might say recklessly, jumped off a fifty meter high bridge into killer rapids without any safety net, and _survived._ (It was fucking amazing that Sam had survived in fact! But Dean chose not to analyze that one too closely.)

No one in their right mind would do that.

At this point it didn't occur to Dean that he should have been very afraid, though if his dad was still alive he probably would have advised him to be.

But Dean figured he was gonna have a long talk with this guy.

Oh how little he knew…..

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Terry blinked and stared around him. Then he looked up into the eyes of the older Winchester brother.

Now here's gonna be fucking trouble, he thought to himself. He could almost hear the cogs rotating in Dean's brain.

This aint good.

_He knows….._

Stalling for time, Terry decided to do a few mental checks. And these happened rapidly:

Limbs. All present and correct sah!

Torso. Ditto. Sah! (More or less. Never mind the ribs.)

Brain…..not sure I had one to start with sah! But what I _have_ got I'm clinging on to for dear fucking life.

Sah!

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There was a tense pause.

And then it started.

It was the result of two men who, in spite of what had happened that night, knew instinctively they didn't trust each other.

It didn't help that one was a red blooded American, and it really didn't help that the other was a cold blooded Englishman spoiling for a rumble. With a cold blooded sense of reasoning to match.

It was also the result of the fact that rationale, in the form of Sam, had been drowned out by large amounts of testosterone and, equally, lots of shouting.

And in the midst of it all, in sheer bewilderment, Sam was merely trying to work out why _he'd_ been the one to suffer from zits as a teenager.

_Isn't that shit supposed to be hormone related?..._

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Sam watched at first with his eyes and mouth wide open. These two were really going for it in a _going for it _kinda way. And Dean was losing.

It was time to break it up, though Sam wasn't sure how. He knew that he could simply step in and assist his brother. But he had also developed specialist instincts of his own during his life, and this particular one was telling him that, not only would he _not_ end the fight..

…but he might actually make it _worse_.

And so it carried on….

_Thud_

_Smack_

_Oooff…..._That one was a knee to someone's groin.

_Another thud._

_Another smack._

_The fighters whirled and ducked…_

...almost like a ballet, thought Sam distantly, though Dean most likely wouldn't appreciate that comparison. Too gay…

…_and more punches, more round- house kicks._

And then the bitching started.

"Who the hell _are_ you?" This was Dean.

A few more punches.

"Yeah, like I'm gonna fucking tell a yank who's barely old enough to shave" Replied Terry.

Another kick.

"Now _that _wasn't called for man! I'm twenty-seven!" Dean threw another punch which Terry ducked easily, and then grabbed the older Winchester brother by the arm and got him in a head-lock.

"That wasn't a very nice thing to do to the bloke what saved your brother." Terry hissed in Dean's ear.

Dean struggled. "Sam! You wanna step in and help me out here……"

A few seconds, and then a few more thuds later, Terry had a Winchester in a head-lock under both his arms.

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Terry spoke slowly, just to make sure that he was properly understood.

"Now I'm gonna make things _really_ clear to you two," Terry wanted to wipe the blood off his mouth, but he didn't trust the little shits enough to let go of them yet.

_The little buggers certainly lived up to their name…_ _he thought, admiringly_.

"It's safe to say that I'm not in the best of moods. It's _equally.._" He tugged at the brothers throats enough to illicit a few satisfying groans. "…...safe to say that you try that crap again and you'll be wishing that Satan and all his little demons would visit you right now, just to take away the pain. And pain's what is above and beyond what I'm promising you _if you ever try that again_!"

There was a pause before Dean rasped out "fuck you to hell".

Terry snorted. "No, after you my friend.

"Age before beauty", was the cocky struggled for reply.

"Shit before the shovel mate." Terry gave a grim smile. "And let me tell you this, Dean Winchester."

He gave another tug on Dean's neck. He lowered his mouth to Dean's ear.

"You need me right now, so don't piss me off anymore than you have to. 'Cos if I'm not mistaken, there is a certain federal agent out there by the name of Hendrikson….."

He felt Dean stiffen.

Ah.

"…..that is somewhat _after _your arse. And I think it's safe to say, that's not a good thing. Not to mention the bastard what's after you tonight, am I correct?"

Dean barely managed to nod an affirmative.

"So the question is this: can you afford not to trust me? 'Cos I'm pretty sure if you don't trust me, then come tomorrow, freedom is gonna become what some _might_ call a questionable trait for the both of you…"

And he added with a extreme emphasis "..and if you think you hold all the good cards, _poker boy_, then you can afford to raise the stakes."

_Poker boy? He called me Poker boy!_

Dean was experiencing what could class as PTAS.

Post Traumatic Anger Syndrome.

_This bastard is going_ _down_.

Dean brought his arm forward, with the express intention of slamming his elbow into Terry's groin. Then he heard Sam choke and stopped.

Dean managed to shift his eyes towards his little brother and panicked. Sam's face was pale, but even more worrying was that his lips were turning blue, his hands grasping weakly at Terry's arms as he desperately tried to get air into his lungs.

Terry breathed slowly and smiled to himself. So the rumours were true. The Winchester brothers were indeed a team. That was good. That was one way to get them to shut up for long enough.

Studying from his elevated angle the concern Dean had for his brother, he announced, carefully and slowly:

"Now I'm going to let you go. And then you are going to listen to me. Understood?"

He was met with a sullen silence. Terry sighed. He really wished people could be more bloody cooperative. Yanking the brother's necks a little more viscously, he cemented his point.

"I said _understood_?"

There was a couple of strangled Yeahs, followed by attempts to nod fiercely.

Terry slowly relinquished his hold, and then in an amazing about-face of speed, threw the young blokes to the ground. He stepped away, looking down at them.

Sam and Dean gasped for breath and coughed. They both rolled onto their backs and managed to wheeze a little before gaining any kind of composure.

Terry studied them.

He thought back to the time before he left England to come here.

He'd been told a lot about the Winchesters. What he hadn't been told was that John Winchester was dead. He was presumed to be in hiding; after all, no official documents had come to light on that score.

Terry had never met John, but he knew of him. It was impossible not to know, given that most of Terry's family had been UK-based hunters. There was so much history, so many unjust deaths and murders in the world.

Would it really have surprised the Winchesters to note that the UK and Europe were as just in need of such skills as the USA?

Let's face it, where Terry came from in England was known to be one of the most haunted villages in the world. The village of Pluckley in Kent.

_And that was just one village out of thousands….._

No. Terry had known that John had passed from this world. His dad had figured it out. James Morgan had met John on odd occasions and had nothing but good things to say about him. His Dad had reasoned that if John Winchester had done the ultimate disappearing act on his sons then there was only one conclusion.

Which was why Terry had felt somewhat sick about having to take this assignment, but known he had no choice.

If he'd refused the mission, on the grounds that it was unjustified then two things would have happened.

One: he would have been RTU'd – Returned to Unit, which was considered to be one big fucking disgrace, and he would no longer have had any useful input to the current situation.

And the second….well that really just wasn't worth thinking about.

He'd _had_ to take this mission; in order to make sure the Winchester's were officially "dead and buried".

Terry wasn't often given over to emotion, but he was feeling it now. The unfairness, the contradictions, the betrayal……

He once again looked down at the lads, and squashed back any feelings of sympathy that he had left. Except for one.

"You ok?" He asked in a low voice.

"I've been better…." Dean rasped back, angrily.

Terry smirked. Anger he could deal with. But it was the hurt look on Sam's face that was giving him a hard time. He'd saved Sam's life, and then Sam had come looking for him to make sure he was ok.

And he was supposed to take out his one remaining relative, his brother and best friend.

Well, it was what was commonly referred to in the SAS as tough fucking shit.

There was no way in hell that he could explain things to Sam and Dean, not at this stage.

Or could he?

He wasn't working on the usual rules here anymore. Off the grid in fact. He could only work on his own and with the info available to him. Yeah, he'd come here because of the mission, but that mission didn't define his true intentions….it certainly didn't define _him_.

And besides, _the situation had changed._

Terry looked back into his past.

He remembered what he and his dad used to sing together over a dark ale or a single malt:

"_**Carry on my wayward son, **_

_**there'll be peace when you are done…**_"

And so Terry came to a decision.

"Yeah. But you'll live sunshine." Terry turned his gaze to the surroundings briefly before settling it back on the Winchesters.

Dean glared up at Terry. "You said you wanted to talk. So be my guest asshole."

Terry sighed and sat down cross-legged on the hard surface. And with an expression on his face that simply oozed sarcasm and irony he began:

"Are we sitting comfortably children? Then I'll begin. Once upon a time….."

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Part 3 coming up kids...

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	3. Chapter 3

**A Debt Paid Part 3**

…_..Once upon a time there had been hunters. _

_Rough, savage, fearsome hunters, but as rough as they were, they knew about the thin grey line. _

_That knowledge had fizzled out. _

_Everyone knew it._

_There were no secrets._

_How **could** there have been?_

_It had seemed too much trouble at the time, but time itself was moving on. There were no excuses, and therefore could be no regrets._

_The demons had to go, that much was obvious. Hell was just a breath away. Everyone had agreed, and as the course of events ran true, the war had begun._

_And after that there was no stopping it._

_But the situation had turned. Events spiraling downwards. As is so often the case. There were losses. Too many._

_The hunters were losing, not just their lives but any semblance of humanity._

_They were becoming the very things they hunted._

_Gordon had been one of the signs, but he wasn't the first. He was just that one, last, final statistic that had proved the point._

_It had pained them to kill their own._

_And soon it became evident that younger blood was needed._

_And so, with that in mind, and heavy of heart, James Morgan had recruited his entire family. Including his sons and daughters that had been trained by the British armed forces. _

_And some that weren't._

_He had a new army, fresh "demon fodder"._

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Sergeant Terry Morgan explained a few more things.

For a start, he spoke of the day he'd been summoned to Captain Sadler's office. He told of the sick feeling in his stomach when he realized what he was being asked to do.

The Americans, or at least the ones running the country, had no idea about the world beyond this one. It had made Terry laugh, given how utterly _Christian _the country was, to the extent that half of it had wanted to ban the teaching of Darwinism, and still did.

And yet…..

….and yet, nothing.

The powers-that-be in the US had wanted the Winchester's dead.

Eventually. Once they'd managed to find the buggers, that is.

Actually, they wanted Dean dead to start with; he was Sam's protector and too much trouble.

They had wanted Sam alive because they'd heard, in the usual common course of time, speculation, and downright politics, of his 'special abilities'.

It was at this point that someone higher in the chain of command had started to wake up.

Something was amiss.

(Really? You don't fucking say!).

It was _then_ that research had been started. _Serious_ research.

Demonologists, theologists, psychics, and any number of other so-called experts had been rounded up and trotted out. Their task was simple.

And in Terry's own words, that task was _to_ _find out what the fuck was going on._

This should have meant some kind of hope to the world of the hunters - _help was on the way_ - but it didn't. It meant that people who thought they knew better were going to get involved in something they didn't, _couldn't_ possibly understand.

And so they had approached Terry. Somehow they'd known what he was. He'd spent time in Afghanistan, Iraq, Ireland, and even time in North Korea on surveillance; though that was little known information he'd been surprised that his superiors had handed over to the yanks.

He should have known better.

The only reason he was still alive was his hunting skills. And his loyalty to the Crown (hah!).

It would take a hunter to locate, and ultimately, kill a hunter.

They had the sense to realise they couldn't trust people like Gordon to get the job done to their _specification._

They knew of the existence of hunters, all right. They just didn't really know their true purpose.

And, in the solid gaze of a so-called civilized state, highly trained people without a purpose were considered to be an immediate threat.

Then you had FBI fuckwitts like Hendrikson, who was so way out of his depth it was laughable.

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Terry had paused for a second, his head down. Then he continued.

"….and so I took the job. If I hadn't, then they would've sent someone else. And that would have been some bad fucking news. I had to take it. Someone else would have finished the job. No remorse and no understanding about what they'd done. You blokes have to survive, if the rest of the world is to. There it fucking is. Full stop."

He raised his head and stared hard at Dean.

"I was sent here to take you out mate. And so I decided to come here _**to make sure that didn't happen."**_

Sam took a deep breath and forced himself to his feet, his mind reeling.

"This is big," he turned away to stare across the slowly brightening landscape. It was still fairly dark, in that twilight kinda way. _I'm literally in the Twilight Zone_ he thought to himself with a humourless smirk. He hung his head.

Terry studied the back of the younger brother, hearing the fear in his voice. Sadness welled up in him at the burden he'd just place on these men, but he'd had no choice. It was the only way they would stand a chance of surviving this.

He turned his attention to Dean, who sat there silently watching Terry. When he spoke it was with no emotion what so ever.

"So. We're famous?"

Terry laughed. "Yeah, in a really bad fucking way mate." He was surprised that Dean had swallowed all this, but then, figuratively speaking, the night was still young.

Dean appeared to ponder this. "So, let me get this straight. We have on our asses, currently, the governments of two major players, one of which is our own, at least one FBI agent, and, _oh yes let me see_, a crazy-bastard hunter." At Terry's wary nod, Dean sighed heavily. "Man, this is so over the fucking cuckoos nest."

Terry shrugged. "If it helps, you aren't alone in this. All the hunters are feeling it. It's a betrayal, and it stings." He got to his feet, wincing at little. Looking up at the approaching dawn, he thought about what was going to happen now.

He wasn't disappointed.

He managed to dodge Dean's fist as it came flying, throwing the lad off balance. But Dean recovered far more quickly than Terry could anticipate, and he suddenly found himself pinned to the ground with an extremely angry Winchester staring down at him.

"Dean" He vaguely heard his brother's weary voice, the tone suggesting that he'd had enough. Well Dean wasn't going to be defeated so easily….

The blood in his veins was raging, and he felt light-headed.

Then he looked deep into Terry's eyes, seeing the resignation, the truth evident in them.

And all the fight left him. He closed his eyes in despair, got up and went to stand by Sam's side.

Terry watched with concern as the brothers turned to stare at one another.

And this was the conversation Terry didn't hear, though he could see it played out in their eyes and body language:

_Sam…._

_Dean don't say it. You know he's right. We both know what he's saying is the truth. We've known for a long time this was coming._

_Ok. I get it. So what the hell do we do now for fuck sake?_

_I don't know._

Dean smiled.

_First thing we gotta do is get the hell outa here._

Sam smiled.

_Understood._

Far off in the distance could be heard the sound of some small creatures getting down and dirty with it in the undergrowth. The brothers had one last thing to say to each other in the confines of their own heads.

_Bitch._

_Jerk._

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Terry heaved a sigh of relief when he saw them grinning at one another. He didn't know what they'd been thinking but he could tell from the look of acceptance on their faces that they'd taken him at his word.

And he knew it wasn't telepathy.

Not really.

Just one of those crazy bonds that can exist between people who've spent too long a time watching each other's backs.

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Hmm. Got a lot to think about here. I'll get back to you as soon as I come up with the next part of this bullshit story line...

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	4. Chapter 4

**A Debt Paid Part 4**

Sam and Dean turned to Terry, who was struggling to his feet once again.

"Come on lads. Let's get the fuck out of here eh?"

Just as the three of them turned to head back up the river, a shot rang out. The bullet ricocheted off the rock where Sam had been standing just a second ago. It had come from up river.

Instinct and training took over; Dean, Sam, and Terry darted away from the edge of the lake and into the relative safety of the surrounding forest. At least, it was safe for the time being and provided much needed cover. But that cover was on a timer switch, and pretty soon the alarm was going to sound.

"Gordon" Sam growled softly, as they sped deeper into the trees. "It has to be him. The bastard followed us. He must have followed our trail down river."

"Yeah. And he sure is one stubborn sonofabitch." Dean was leading the way, closely followed by Sam, with Terry as tail-end Charlie, keeping an eye out for their assassin at the rear.

"Yeah well," Terry began, and then he stopped moving and came to a halt. "Lads stop a minute and listen." Sam and Dean did as he asked and stood still. They were good at keeping quiet; their Dad had schooled them well in the arts of patience and stealth.

Terry had whirled round silently to face the direction they had come from, and now he was staring intently into the trees. He had opened his mouth which assisted his hearing, and now his brain was filtering out all the sounds of the forest, all the faint rustlings from the odd squirrel burying his nuts, to the sound of those very same creatures that earlier had been getting real friendly with each other….._not just a one night stand then_ he thought vaguely as he carried on examining each and every sound, until he came to the one that didn't belong there.

He didn't like it.

Without taking his eyes off the trail behind them, Terry signaled to the brothers to move silently closer. When they were standing close enough he placed a hand on Sam and Dean's shoulders, and whispered to them.

"He's at the edge of the forest. The sod must have seen where we went in but he hasn't got the balls to follow just yet. I reckon he'll hang around waiting for us to make a break for it, thinking we'd go for the route along the river. Our mate Gordy's hoping we're gonna drop a bollock". He glanced at the Winchesters to make sure they'd heard him. They too were watching the trail but both nodded. "Right. I'm aiming to make his job just that little bit harder for the bastard. What dya say lads?"

Sam and Dean, on remembering what Gordon had done to them, responded immediately.

"Fine with me." Replied Sam sharply.

"I aint gonna lose no sleep that's for god damn sure." Dean muttered.

Terry nodded. "Follow me."

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Gordon had rounded the final bend before the waterfall with caution, not wanting to give his position away. Silently he dropped to his knees, then to all fours and crawled towards the edge, taking care not to dislodge any stones.

He saw the Winchesters standing out in the open by the lake, but someone else was there. The stranger was no where near as tall as Sam or Dean, but he was wiry and looked fit and strong. He also looked filthy, his hair and clothes covered in the detritus of the river. Training his optic sights on the three men, Gordon stared at the strange man. This guy had come out of the water that much was obvious.

Gordon shrugged off the suspicions that were filling his mind. That could wait 'til later. The main thing here was that Sam and Dean were out in the open and unprotected. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

He took aim, the cross-hairs lined up with the side of Sam's head, and fired. The trio had chosen that moment to move and so the bullet with Sam Winchester's name on it had hit the rocks where he'd been standing.

A whole host of swear words lined up and marched through Gordon's psychotic mind.

The shot had alerted the three men to his presence, and they'd immediately taken off into the trees.

"Damnit!" He got to his feet and carefully made his way down to the lake, keeping to the shadows as best he could. The last thing he wanted was to track two hardened hunters through the forests. No. He'd try waiting them out for now. The Winchesters weren't likely to try escaping through the trees, especially with a civilian in tow; these forests went on for miles. They'd aim for the river and eventually the Impala.

He scanned the tree-line, patiently watching, waiting.

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Terry and the boys spread out a little, and quietly made their way as close to the edge of the forest as they could. This was tricky. Apart from Terry's knife and Dean's H&K, which was no use over a long range, they were unarmed and up against a nutter with a powerful sniper's rifle and optic sights. Besides, Dean only had the one clip and that was half empty.

Not good.

And now the sun was climbing steadily up the wintry sky, making invisibility down-right impossible.

Terry spotted Gordon. He had hidden himself well behind a rock, and was lying absolutely still whilst staring down the sights of the rifle. The optic sights had caught the dim light, giving Gordon's position away.

The forest was dead silent, as though nature herself had put the world on hold, and the birds and animals were holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

He signaled to the boys to halt, and approached Sam. Standing right behind the young hunter, he held out his arm over Sam's shoulder, pointing straight ahead. He mouthed in his ear "Dya see 'im?"

Sam stared hard and nodded.

Dean sensed his brother's gaze on him, turned to Sam and nodded, letting him know that he'd also spotted Gordon.

The canopy of the forest was so dense that there were no bushes, brambles or bracken growing under it, the sunlight having been virtually shut off. But from time to time there was the occasional patch of sunlight getting through and the men did their level best to avoid those. Silent movement was possible, sure, but achieving such movement without being seen was a problem. The three men had to keep to the ever changing shadows of the trees as the sun gradually slipped round the sky.

Poor old Sam, Terry thought to himself a little later. It really isn't his fucking day.

Terry had moved out again and motioned to the boys to move forward on his mark. Unfortunately, Sam had trodden on a twig.

Which snapped. Loudly.

There was a loud shot, followed by Sam crying out as he dropped to the forest floor, groaning in pain.

"Sam!" Dean ran to his brother. "Sammy!" He had effectually given his position away but he no longer cared. He hoped and prayed that it wasn't serious, just a flesh wound may be. But as he reached his brother his heart sank. There was blood on Sam's thigh. Way too much blood. He pulled Sam's hand away from the bullet wound to get a better look.

Terry raced over. "Give me your gun, grab your brother and fucking move mate!" He whispered roughly. Normally there was no way on god's green earth that Dean would have given his gun to the guy, but he had little choice. He forced Sam to his feet, whereupon he buckled but Dean caught him. Placing Sam's arm around his neck and holding him up, he quickly ran in the direction Terry had indicated, dragging his groaning brother along with him.

They moved deeper in to the forest with Terry following on behind.

When they figured they'd gone far enough to get out of range, they stopped for a breather, but really it was to take stock of Sam's injury.

Dean sat his brother down and gently leaned him against a tree. The Englishman took up position in front of the Winchesters, his back to them, gun pointing steadily back towards the tree line.

Sam was struggling to keep his eyes open as blood continued to flow hastily from his leg. Dean undid his belt and wrapped it around Sam's thigh just above the wound as a tourniquet. These were a bad idea, he knew, but they had little choice given their present predicament. He tightened the belt hoping that they'd be able to find help before Sam's leg dropped off from lack of blood and oxygen.

Sweat broke out on Sam's forehead, the pain a fierce burning sensation that threatened to consume him. His brother tightened the belt again and Sam stifled a gasp.

"I know it hurts Sammy, but I've gotta stop the bleeding." Dean glanced in despair at the agony etched on his little brother's face. He reached out and gently brushed a few stray locks of hair out of Sam's eyes, noting the confusion, fear and exhaustion in them. "It's gonna be ok. Understand me? You with me bro?" Dean took off his top shirt and tied it over the wound, attempting to minimize any chances of infection.

Sam nodded and felt his eyes closing. Dean shook him roughly. "No going to sleep. We need you awake ok? Awake, good. Sleep, bad."

"Bitch" he added in an attempt to illicit a response from his sibling. He was soon rewarded.

"Jerk" Sam muttered.

Although, he really couldn't blame the kid for wanting to sleep.

He'd been kidnapped, fallen off a bridge – been lucky to survive – taken a hair-raising ride down one of the worlds biggest water slides – been lucky to survive that too – and with barely any rest, had gone for a fucking long jog along a river bank, and then been choked half to death by their one and only ally. Following that he'd come dangerously close to having his brains blown out, and now he had a hole in his leg from which was pouring what appeared to be every drop of blood in his body.

Basically, Sam's usual run of bad luck had taken a turn for the worse and now he was busy cruising up shit creek without a certain rowing implement.

Just fucking great.

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Gordon was on a roll. He just _knew_ he'd hit Sam; he'd heard Sam's cry of pain clearly enough, but he wasn't sure _where_ he'd hit him. It would be enough to slow them down and that's what counted. If he'd been lucky enough then may be Sam was dead.

Doubtful though. Even Gordon wasn't so fucked in the head that he didn't realize that.

He reloaded and waited for his next opportunity. Which didn't come.

They must have retreated further back into the forest to regroup. No doubt the civilian was shitting himself by this point; in fact, Gordon was kinda surprised he hadn't heard panicked arguments echoing from the trees by now.

He decided to move closer.

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Terry sized things up. Sam's leg wound looked serious and he was losing too much blood. The bullet had to come out before infection set in, and that wouldn't be long. They had no first aid kit, half a clip of rounds, a knife and fuck all else. Not even any water.

He came to a decision.

"Dean, get your brother as far into the forest as you can. I'll be back in a bit."

Dean stared at him. "Why? What's your plan?"

Terry grinned. "I reckon our friend out there carries a first aid kit, and I'm going to ask him nicely to lend it to us."

"Man that's fucking crazy. You won't get within a few hundred metres before that bastard takes you out!" Dean replied in amazement. He'd known the SAS weren't entirely on the same planet as the rest of the sane world, but this was fucking out there! He grabbed Terry's arm and spoke in a low voice. "Gordon's a psycho but he doesn't know who you are yet. He may let you go…" Even as he said it he knew that was crap.

Terry's grin grew into a real shit-eating one. "He won't get the chance mate."

Sam let out another groan as his body started shaking. Shock was setting in and the shivering was causing him even more pain. Dean turned to him immediately and murmured a few encouraging words, placing his hand on Sam's forehead. When he turned back to Terry, he was met with an empty forest. Dean hadn't even heard him leave.

Shit.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Terry had done what he was well trained to do. He _disappeared_.

He smiled as he made his way silently through the trees. It was time for the friendly introductions, and Terry was pretty sure just how friendly it was going to get.

He came to a stop and watched patiently until he saw what he was looking for.

Ah……

There was Gordon. As Terry had predicted the bastard had moved closer to the tree line.

Nice one mate.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Gordon was considering another move towards the trees when he heard the noise. It was the sound of something thudding to the ground off to his right.

He was puzzled. There's no way Dean would have left Sam on his own, unless Sam hadn't been that badly wounded. There was always that possibility. But what about the civilian……

The suspicions that he'd put on hold earlier came back to haunt him.

_There had been another car on the bridge, parked just further back……_

_He'd nearly fallen when the railing gave way and he'd let Sam go……_

_He'd just about heard the splash as Sam hit the water….._

This was the point where his subconscious _really_ gave up the goods.

_There had been another splash shortly afterwards….._

Gordon froze. There was the usual noise of the wilderness, the eagles crying as they rode the thermals, more sounds of animal love being made.

This was _also_ the point that a low and malevolent sounding voice made itself known.

Right in Gordon's left ear.

"'Allo Mister Gordon…."

He felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and then it all went black.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean was talking to Sam in low whispers. It had been a struggle moving on through the trees and now they were resting. Sam was still in shock but its grip on him was loosening.

"Hey! Stay awake godamnit! You want me to kick your ass? 'Cos I'll do it, gun shot wound or no gun shot wound."

Sam smiled and opened his eyes slowly. "N-no w-way. I'm t-taller than you."

"Yeah, but I'm better looking and everyone knows the better looking guy always wins." Dean grinned smugly, smothering his fears for Sam's life.

Sam wasn't fooled for a second. "Dean?" he whispered after a while.

"Yeah?"

"This….this is bad, isn't it?"

Dean _almost_ dropped his grin, but just managed to keep hold of it. "Nah. Not a problem little bro. It's just you being a girl. Hell, remember that bout a flu you had that year? You were convinced it was pneumonia."

"Dude, that was you. I actually _had_ pneumonia." Sam replied sluggishly, but Dean noted that his voice was getting stronger as the conversation progressed.

"Nu-huh!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"You keep on arguing and I'm gonna publish that photo on the internet."

"What photo? That one with me asleep and you stuck a spoon in my mouth? Man that was lame!"

"Not that one." Dean grinned again. "You remember that time you hit the tequila in that hotel? Got real pissed?..." His voiced trailed off.

Sam glanced at his older brother suspiciously. "Dean! What did you do?"

The smug grin was becoming annoying now. "You fell outa bed in the middle of the night and…. " Dean raised a finger in order to silence his brother "…and, _still half-asleep_, you pretty much took a standing leap into the bathroom, puked and fell asleep with your face practically round the U-bend." Dean's smugness radiated off him in waves, as he nodded. "I got a picture of _that_."

Sam, in spite of the pain, glared at his older brother. "You bastard."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Terry stepped back and examined his handiwork.

"Hurhurhurhur….."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

After a little more bickering the Winchesters fell silent. Dean was closely watching his brother, trying to keep him awake with a few jabs and pokes, so he might have been forgiven for his lack of attention.

There was a polite cough from behind the tree that Sam was leaning against, and Terry's face peered round at them, his eyebrows waggling up and down.

Dean was incredulous.

_How did the bastard do that?_

"You blokes ready to roll? I got something to show you." Terry offered Dean a hand and hauled him to his feet. Between them they managed to drag Sam up and held him securely in their grip.

After what seemed like the trek of a fucking lifetime, especially for Sam, Terry came to a stop. He gave a slow sweep of his arm and a little bow, inviting the brothers to step around the next tree.

And what greeted them was certainly….._a sight_.

Sam and Dean just stared.

And then they started laughing.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Gordon was just coming to with a groan. His head hurt and he wanted to reach up to check on it, but found that he couldn't. His hands were tied securely above his head and he appeared to be face down on something that had the texture of a rhino's arse. Then he quickly realized a few things.

One: he couldn't really groan because something has been forced into his mouth – and that something was tasting pretty foul. It took him a short time to figure out it was one of his own socks. He'd recognize that taste anywhere.

And two: he wasn't laying face _down. _He was standing up.

And, finally, three: it wasn't a rhino's arse his face was up against. It was a tree. And there was a rather cold draft around his nether regions.

What he had no way of realizing was the reason for the laughter that had abruptly started up behind him.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean and Sam were practically bent double, in the agony-throws of some severe sniggering when they heard Gordon groan.

Terry leaned casually against a tree and laughed with them.

"Man that is just beautiful!" Dean nearly had tears running down his face.

Sam tried to regain some composure. "That's just….immature…" he could barely get the word out before he started laughing again.

Because Sergeant Morgan had taken his interrogation training just a little bit further.

It certainly wasn't regulation, and he would have been court martialled and dropped kicked out of the Regiment so fast his feet wouldn't have touched.

But, Dean was right. It _was _beautiful. And fitting.

Gordon was tied to a tree, face first, with his pants round his ankles.

On his bare arse had been written in block capitals the legend

"FUCK HERE".

With a little arrow pointing in a direction not usually mentioned in polite company.

Yeah. That _was _fucking beautiful.

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Hope that one made you laugh as much as it did me. The worse thing is, it's partly based on truth...

Next episode to be worked on...

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	5. Chapter 5

**Many thanks for the reviews. Very encouraging. Keep it up...please.**

**Oh and I should mention: it's about to get a bit violent. If by chance there's anyone out there who actually likes Gordon Walker (you sick buggers), I have this advice: turn off the computer, and walk quitely away.**

**A Debt Paid Part 5**

Five minutes later they were still laughing.

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The laughter died out a little, but there still came the occasional snort as the Winchesters tried to get themselves under control.

And besides, now that the adrenaline rush was over, the pain in Sam's leg was coming back with a vengeance.

Sam had shifted his injured leg a little, trying to get comfortable, when he felt the agony growing. His shirt clung to his chest and back as sweat broke out; a direct result of his attempts to keep a lid on it.

Dean, fortunately, wasn't stupid. He had felt his brother slowly starting to tense up, and took a good look at Sam's face.

"Shit Sammy. I've seen long dead corpses with more colour than you!" Dean winced when he said it, realising Sam probably wouldn't appreciate that analogy right now.

He was right.

"Gee thanks Dean," Sam whispered breathlessly as another low wave of pain shot up his from his thigh. He rolled his eyes in frustration. "I really needed to hear _that_."

Dean gave a small smile in apology. "I need to take a look at your leg Sam."

Sam nodded wearily.

Terry pushed himself away from the tree he was leaning against, raised a hand and pointed. "About fifty yards from here there's a clearing where I've dumped Gordon's gear. You'll find everything you need, including a first aid kit. I've laid out some kindling; I strongly suggest you light it, if only for warmth." He paused and looked hard at the brothers. He added softly so Gordon couldn't hear "there's scalpels and sutures in the medi-kit. Make sure you disinfect _everything_ before you use it."

Dean gave a sharp nod. He knew what he had to do.

Terry turned back to the helpless Gordon.

"In the meantime, Mr. Walker and I have things to discuss. Right Gordy?" he gave him a friendly slap on the back, and grinned when Gordon attempted to tell him where to go.

"fffuuuff ffff"

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Sam was rapidly approaching the Land Of Nod whilst still upright, if only with his brother's assistance. Dean tightened his arm around his sibling's waist and started moving.

Sam's head was rolling about as if boneless on his shoulders, but he could still feel the fresh blood soaking his jeans as they moved through the forest to the clearing. Given how sluggish he felt he was surprisingly still aware of what was going on around him.

Which was rather unfortunate.

The going was slow and rough just here since Dean insisted on stopping every time he heard his brother gasp in pain, usually because he'd trodden on an errant pinecone and stumbled.

They finally reached the clearing when one pinecone too many was Sam's undoing. But this time it was Dean that tripped on it, nearly falling to the ground.

Guilt ravaged Dean's mind as he heard his brother's cry of pain, and then Sam slumped heavily, passing out as the agony became too much.

"Sammy!" Dean shook his brother, trying to get some kind of response. But Sam remained silent, his eyes closed.

Dragging them both further into the clearing, Dean spotted the small back pack and the fire that had been laid for them.

He had to remember to thank Terry profusely when this was all over, _if_ it was ever over.

He laid his brother gently down and took off his coat, laying it over Sam to keep him warm. That would have to do for now until he got the fire going.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Terry strolled around the tree to face Gordon, whose eyes were filled with hatred and fury.

The sergeant grinned nastily.

"Now unless you wish me to carry out the threat I've purposely etched on your arse, I strongly suggest that when you answer my questions, you answer 'em truthfully." Terry leaned his face right into Gordon's. "Because if you don't, I'll _know_, see? And I'll use the biggest, sharpest piece of pinewood I can find, and shove it right _up_ mate!"

Gordon didn't know what that threat was but could certainly hazard a guess. And on staring into the Englishman's eyes, came to a terrifying conclusion.

This guy is _serious!_

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As Gordon and Terry were getting acquainted, with Terry mainly hosting the introductions, Dean was lighting the fire using the Zippo he'd found stored in the backpack.

Pretty soon a nice blaze was going, and, in between checking on Sam, he was collecting more wood to throw on in order to get the flames as hot as possible.

Then he got down to the business of checking out the first aid kit. It seemed that, crazy bastard though Gordon was, he was thorough. Dean had everything he needed, including morphine, though he hoped it wouldn't come to that. Morphine took a while to wear off, and he needed Sam alert ASAP.

Crouching by his brother, he removed the shirt he'd tied round the leg and examined the wound. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle and Dean heaved a sigh of relief. The bullet still had to come out and the gaping hole would need stitching but for now Sam wasn't losing vast amounts of blood, and that was something to be thankful for.

It still looked bad regardless.

Grabbing some gauze and peroxide, Dean got to work with the first job – the clean-up.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Terry removed the socks from Gordon's mouth and grimaced at the smell.

_Christ, if the Iraqi's had used that on me during the Golf war I'd have sung like a fucking canary right there and then….._

"Right, Gordon my friend. Let's begin. First question: how many others are after Sam Winchester?"

Gordon glared defiantly at Terry. "Fuck you."

"That's a tempting offer, but I'm afraid my bread aint buttered that side mate. I know of a few single blokes if you're interested though." Terry grinned at the furious look on the hunter's face. "You into blind dates? No? Ah well……"

He rammed his fist into Gordon's right kidney.

Gordon groaned loudly.

"You wanna try that again mate?" Terry's tone was all friendly and conversational. He could have been in the pub downing a few pints with his squad the way his was talking. "I wanna know who else you've been talking to, 'cos I'm pretty damned certain you wouldn't have kept this to yaself."

Gordon stayed silent. Another bad move.

His left kidney exploded with pain.

After gasping for a few seconds, Gordon finally got out the question he'd been burning to ask. "Who the hell are you!"

Terry raised an eyebrow. "I'm generally known as the Shit End Of The Stick. Your's in particular."

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The scalpels and forceps had been disinfected by flame and peroxide solution, and now Dean was ready to extract the bullet from Sam's leg. He took a deep breath, made the first incision…..

……and Sam chose that very moment to come round. Typical.

The yell of agony was deafening, and Dean fought to keep his brother still.

_Not an impossible task,_ Dean thought to himself, _but pretty fucking close to it._

Sam was writhing on the ground, his back arching as he struggled to get away.

"Sam take it easy."

"Dean! You bastard that hurt…"

"…..I'm trying to get that damn bullet out of your leg! Now relax. I don't wanna end up slicing your femoral artery!" That made Sam go still, but he was breathing too heavily. "Sam, slow down. Deep, even breaths."

Eventually Sam managed to calm down.

At that point a loud scream echoed across the forest. Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

Gordon.

Dean swallowed hard "Sounds like Terry's having himself a little fun."

"Yeah," replied Sam, his voice a little shaky.

Dean went back to his gruesome task. The bullet was pretty deep so it was going to take some digging.

Sam lay on his back looking up at the patch of sky above, trying his best not to think about what his brother was doing to his leg. But he still felt the scalpel blade scraping along his shredded thigh muscles.

"Ahhh godddd!" he breathed, trying to keep from yelling out again.

"Easy Sammy." Dean had to dig deeper, until he finally reached it. He glanced up at his brother's face as he reached for the sterilized forceps; the agonized expression cut as deep into Dean's heart as the scalpel had into Sam's leg.

He took a deep breath and started tugging.

Sam did the best he could to hold it in. But eventually he needed the release.

"AAHHHHHHHHHHSHITSHITSHITSHIT…." Echoed round the clearing, until, with a small sucking noise, a triumphant grin and a sigh of relief, Dean pulled the bullet free.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"You twisted fucker!"

"Oh come on Gordon," said Terry jovially. "What's a few bruised kidneys between hunters eh?" He'd turned Gordon round by now so that his back was to the tree.

Gordon's face was badly bruised; his bottom lip had split open and two of his front teeth were missing.

Suddenly the silence of the forest was shattered by the sound of Sam yelling out in pain. Terry tilted his head to one side for a second, listening. The noise soon stopped, but the jovial expression had disappeared from Terry's face. It was replaced by something more menacing; a smile that didn't even _bother_ trying to reach his eyes.

"Now that would be young Sam. He's in a lot of pain, as you just heard. You see, his brother has the unenviable task of trying to cut out a bullet from Sam's leg." The look in Terry's eyes would have made Gordon lean back if it weren't for the tree. "A bullet that _you _put there, I believe. Using this…" he reached around the tree and picked up the rifle that had been leaning there. Gordon eyed it fearfully.

"I want names Gordy."

"No fucking way. That demonised-sonofabitch has to die and if I can't do it.…Oomph!" That was the immediate after-effect of a rifle butt being driven into Gordon's stomach.

"Now, now. No name calling; that's _my_ job".

"You bastard…..AAAAHHHHGGGGG!!!" And _that_ was the immediate after-effect of a rifle butt being driven into Gordon's left knee. It was accompanied by a cracking noise as the patella gave way.

Terry nodded in grim satisfaction. He looked closely into Gordon's eyes.

"You in a contest with the Winchester lad or something? Who can scream the loudest?"

Gordon spat at him.

The Englishman's smile widened. "What's the matter? Can't stand the competition eh?" He leaned in to his prisoner's ear and in a low evil voice announced, "Don't worry mate, I'm gonna make sure you win hands fucking _down._"

Another cry emerged from the clearing, louder this time.

"AAHHHHHHHHHHSHITSHITSHITSHIT……."

Terry's eyes hardened. "Must have been deep." He raised the rifle 'til it was pointed at Gordon's groin, point blank range. "Now where shall I start? How about I burst both your plums like fucking balloons?"

He thought for a second. "Nah. Too messy at this stage. We'll get to those later eh?" He gave a low chuckle as Gordon's eyes widened.

Terry cocked the rifle with a loud resounding double click and pointed it at Gordon's good knee. He squeezed the trigger.

Once the screaming had died down, and Gordon had regained consciousness, Terry asked him again.

"Names."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam had fallen silent apart from the heavy breathing and the odd moan. Dean put his hand up to Sam's face and gently wiped away the tears.

"Nearly over little bro. Nearly over." He grabbed the sutures and started threading, ignoring the guilt that was spreading through his bloodstream like poison.

_Some fucking over-protective brother __**I**__ turned out to be._

He was just about to start when there was the sound of rifle fire, followed by another scream from Gordon. Dean shook his head, part in amazement and part in sympathy for Gordon. Poor bastard likely didn't know what hit him when he crossed paths with Terry.

Sam stirred. "What the hell was that?" He asked weakly.

Dean began the task of stitching up his brother. "I think that was Terry having more fun at Gordon's expense."

Sam winced as he felt the first stitch. "Strangely enough, I'm having a hard time feeling sorry for the bastard."

Dean glanced at his brother. That sounded so unlike Sam, but then Gordon had tried on countless occasions to kill him. What had really wounded his little brother, though, were the accusations and assumptions that Gordon had imposed on him, causing him to start doubting himself.

_Demon-soldier…_

_Turning against your own kind…._

Yeah. Sam's confidence, always a delicate trait, had plummeted to a whole new level when they'd met Gordon Walker.

Dean finished stitching, and started bandaging.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Well Gordy my son, I think the judges just gave you full marks. You've won." Terry almost leered at the man tied to the tree. "Care for another round?" He jammed the rifle into Gordon's groin.

Gordon considered his options. He didn't have many left. He was helpless in the face of someone even more ruthless and deadly than he and Dean Winchester combined.

Suddenly, the right answer loomed in front of him. He started trying to talk, but could barely manage a whisper above the screaming pain in his entire body.

Terry placed his ear next to Gordon's mouth, and on hearing what was being said, he nodded.

Once he realized that the bloke had told him all he needed to know, he brought the butt of the rifle down on Gordon's head.

Terry walked away in disgust.

Captain Sadler, respected rupert of the 22nd Regiment was starting to look like an even bigger bastard than he'd realized.

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Got you really going yet? Have I?


	6. Chapter 6

**A Debt Paid Part 6**

_**Back to the beginning…**_

_**A concrete bunker, hidden in secrecy even from the Canadian government, some two hundred miles away from the bridge.**_

_Snow was starting to free fall and cover the landscape. Various members of the British Special Forces were gathering in the briefing room. But one person was missing….._

Captain Sedgworth Sadler knew exactly who it was. The one man who was supposed to be up at the front. After all, Captain Sadler had personally appointed him as the head of this particular mission.

He'd wanted to test him, see how far he'd push his luck. And Captain Sadler liked to test a man's luck. In his considered opinion (which was far less considerable than he realized) a man should always have at least an idea of when said luck was about to run out.

And that was certainly the case for Sergeant Morgan.

The Captain had his orders like everyone else, but unlike everyone else his hatred for the Morgans, and in addition the Winchesters was like a microwave meal set on too high a power….and left for too long.

_No mere sergeant questions my orders…._

He'd approached Gordon Walker, against all advice. He'd been told the man was mad. Well, that was just the kind of person Sadler needed for the job.

It had been almost too easy to fix the rental car. The sergeant was quite a competent mechanic, but this wasn't going to be a _run of the mill accident_.

It was tough terrain out there in the Canadian back waters, and anything could happen.

Anything could go wrong.

Morgan was a hunter, most people high enough in command with a brain where aware of this, and they were quite happy to use him. But what they didn't see was the danger. This man would side with the rest, and then there'd be no stopping them.

_Terrorism._ That's what this amounted to.

It wasn't demons, or ghosts that were a threat to this world.

It was the hunters.

Demons and ghosts don't exist. And the Winchesters and the Morgans were just egging everyone on.

The Captain thought for a moment. And then signaled for one of his younger officers to take the stand.

As the inexperienced 2nd lieutenant gasped and stuttered his way through the intended plan against the Winchesters, managing to confuse the hell out of everyone present, the Captain wandered out of the room and into his makeshift office. He sat down and checked his email. Nothing new there.

He prided himself on being a great man of judgment. After all it was he that had organized Walker's escape from jail, with a certain FBI agent's help. They'd known Walker would want to head straight for the Winchesters, and this way Sergeant Morgan would be out of the picture.

He smiled to himself. _And the sergeant had fallen for it, hook line and sinker._

The Captain knew how much Morgan hated him, after what had happened in Iraq.

_I gave you an order sergeant…._

_Yes sir…. Was the answer given in barely concealed anger._

…_And Morgan had known it was wrong, which was why he'd argued in the first place._

_But he'd still failed the test._

_The gun fire was bad enough, but the explosion as the building went up…that was deafening. _

_Lives had been lost. But the test had been worth it…._

And yet the man would still follow orders without question.

Morgan was a walking, talking betrayal to the Captain's mind.

Whereas the Captain was arrogantly aware of where he stood, and was quite happy with it. He'd also suffered the extensive SAS training and come through with flying colours. He knew he was good. You didn't get to _be_ that good unless you'd done the full trek.

But it took a special kind of mind to understand what was going on here.

That's the difference between an Eton education and one from a bog-standard Polytechnic….._ he thought of the sergeant._ It also helped that the Captain happened to have contacts, people who disapproved as much as he did.

Which was one of the reasons he'd got into the SAS to start with…..

He understood where Gordon was coming from, but also knew that he must have been completely insane to believe what he did

But then the Captain was not entirely sane himself. He didn't acknowledge this of course; as far as he was concerned Morgan was just another stupid oik….

_I just use the resources available……._

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_Back in the briefing room…_

There was a murmuring of discomfort amongst the troops. The young officer was a bit nervous. He hadn't really had the training for this. He'd done the _physical _training but talking to the "lower ranks" hadn't really been covered. It was starting to occur to him that his Queen's Commission didn't really count for much here.

To his dismay, three _inferiors_ stood up, gave him the finger andwalked out.

"Um…." Began the rupert. The look on the faces before him suggested that this was the wrong time for "um…"

He gave up and left the room.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Corporal Jeff Smale, nickname Clink, stared unseeingly into the Canadian landscape.

He was really unfucking happy with this situation. He turned as his two mates came to a stand still beside him.

"The Sarg's in fucking trouble again."

They all nodded in agreement, remembering Iraq.

There was a silence amongst them. They all knew what the Sarg was; they'd helped him out enough. And vice versa.

And the bloke would've been here tonight if he could, even if only to take the severe piss out of the Captain.

Something was wrong.

Clink came to a quick decision. "I want his GPS activated, and call the Doc. Now!"

And so Sergeant Morgan's remaining team, against orders, once again became active.

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I will try to get another chapter out if I can, but we have to go back to the mainland on Friday night. So think of us as we sail the...well...medium seas back to Portsmouth. And the long drive up to Essex and Suffolk.

Thanks for your reviews. You lot are fucking class...


	7. Chapter 7

**A Debt Paid Part 7**

The Captain knew something had to be wrong when the young officer stumbled into his room.

"My apologies sir, but the members of the 22nd regiment you brought here have….." He knew he was in the crap anyway so why waste anymore time…."…..buggered off."

He added "Sir."

The Captain smiled.

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Clink had been feeling this for a while now. His Sergeant had saved his life more times than he could count, but he still wanted to kick the living crap out of Terry. He was always getting himself into trouble.

He was his greatest drinking partner, next to his own wife, who was a right piss artist. And that worked fine by his standards. But his wife didn't understand the regiment way of things, which is why they'd eventually split up. But she was still a good mate in the civilian world. A friendship that he was most grateful for, given how unusual it was.

The corporal knew about the mission with the Winchesters, and he didn't like it.

_How can you save someone that's already been marked?_

The Captain was indeed a bastard; Clink had shared Terry's initial dislike with the rupert.

But this was fucking unreal.

"Clink?"

"Yeah?" Said the corporal to the foulest mouthed member of his team. _He was still surprised that was possible, given the membership….._

The little bastard, whose nick-name was actually _Bastard_, owing to his rather vicious out-look on life in general, and his attention to torturous detail in particular, waved a piece of paper in front of Clink's nose.

"We've found his car. Fancy a jaunt Corp?"

Clink sighed in relief. The car had been buggered deliberately, that's the long and the short of it. If it was still in one piece then that was a good sign. 'Cos it was meant to crash and burn.

Clink nodded. He was quite happy for any excuse to get out of this place anyway, but the biggest instinct he was receiving, loud and clear, was this: find the car, find the Sarg.

And bale him out of whatever shit he'd walked into.

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Promised you a chapter before I left for England. Sorry it's so short. but got a lot going on.

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	8. Chapter 8

**A Debt Paid Part 8**

Dean kept a watch over his brother, who had fallen into a restless sleep. He sighed,

wondering about the events of the last day or so. Actually, the way things had been

going it felt more like a month.

Dean was tired and ached all over, but the biggest agony he felt was for Sam. His little

brother who'd never harmed anyone, at least anyone that hadn't deserved it, was lying

here hurt in more ways than one.

Shit.

Running a hand through his short hair, he sat up. Glancing around the clearing, he felt his senses kick into overdrive.

_Someone was here._

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Terry made his way back through the forest, his heart filled with anger and betrayal. He

wasn't sure why he was so surprised; his trust for his C.O. had always been an issue. But

a part of him had felt that not even the Captain could have sunk so low.

How wrong he'd been.

Stepping quietly around a pine, he stopped and listened. Then a slow grin started to form

on Terry's rugged features.

He thought for a moment before announcing to the natural world: "I could fucking

murder a smoke." And he really did, his own pack having been knackered in the river.

There came a snort of amusement followed by a rustling noise in the undergrowth. Then there came the reverse-Houdini action, and a man appeared.

The Sarge didn't flinch; he merely stared casually at his team mate.

Clink smirked. "Thought you'd given up. So, you're in the shit again Sarge? Now

there's a fucking change for ya."

Terry gave a short laugh. "Yeah that's me mate: always in the shit. It's just the depth

that varies." He approached his corporal and long time friend, accepting the cigarette

offered to him. Upon lighting it, he took in a long and satisfied drag.

He enjoyed the smoke more now than ever. Since the public smoking ban in the UK he'd

been all the more determined to not give up, though he had thought about it. He'd come

to the conclusion that he wasn't going to be dictated to by a bunch of do-gooder trouser-

wetters that had never seen a shot fired in anger, and would most likely shit themselves if

they ever did.. There were a fuck sight worse things out there in the world to be afraid

of.

And right now, with what Terry had learned from Gordon, this situation could become one of them.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean immediately closed in on Sam. Leaping to his feet, he stood close by watching the

surrounding forest, his back to his sleeping brother. He listened and heard….nothing.

But he felt watched. It was an eerie feeling he could have done without.

Just as he took a breath the trees in the clearing seem to sprout people. Three of them in fact.

They stared at him from beneath their camouflage painted faces. They weren't that big,

about the height of Terry. That single thought alone reminded him of just how lethal

small people could be.

And these guys looked lethal. They regarded him with a curiosity that unnerved him, and

he felt a distinct urge to run. But he held his ground.

"Who the hell are you people?"

"I think that's a valid enough question, though rather a cliché." Came a bored sounding

voice that put Dean in mind of a female Colin Firth.

One of the three strangers had stepped forward. Not all men then. She glanced up at

Dean appraisingly.

"Oh. I see you've met Terry." She offered, noting the bruises and cuts on Dean's face

Her voice was a heavily well educated upper class English accent with the occasional

lilt of the East End of London.

"I've had the pleasure." Dean ground out.

"No. If that were true then you'd be dead." The woman gave him a cold and

disinterested smile. She turned to Sam. "And I see this one hasn't been so fortunate in

your endeavors. Gordon I assume?"

Dean moved closer to Sam, a protective stance that wasn't missed by the woman. She smiled again.

"I'm not here to piss you off Dean. I'm here merely in a medical role." She held out her

hand. "I'm the Doc of this outfit." She saw Dean raise an eyebrow, and he just looked

at her hand. She withdrew hers. "Ah. So you really didn't think women were allowed in

the SAS." The other eyebrow went up. "You're right of course. To the outside world

they don't, but what's a little lie between nations?"

Dean was stunned. "How do you know me?"

Were these Terry's guys? How had they known…

"…where to find you?" The Doc finished for him. She gave a small laugh. "In answer

to your first question, well, you'll have to ask Terry about that. Actually, I'm merely a

necessary female on this mission. They needed someone who could administer medical

assistance whilst being discreet." The Doc stared at Dean for a second, the smile

becoming mysterious. "I know what you're thinking."

Dean said nothing.

At that moment Terry appeared in the clearing with another guy dressed in DPMs.

"You're thinking that you've just been shit out of luck mate." Terry made it to Dean's

side, cigarette hanging from his mouth.

He gave Dean a slap on the back. "The Doc here is one of the best Medical Officers in

the British Army. She helped me out once or twice, and I wouldn't trust my men to any

one else."

"Even if she is a fucking butcher" came a cockney-sounding voice from one of the other

blokes in the clearing, though the tone was good-natured.

The Doc smiled at the speaker. "Yes, my dear Bastard. If it weren't for my butcherly

ways you'd never have the photos of your dear Jimmy and Emily to carry around with

you, by virtue of you not having any balls left to conceive them with."

There came a chorus of dirty laughs. They all knew the rules. No form of ID and

certainly no family photos. Family stayed at home blissfully unaware of what they got up

to. So they assumed, but then most SAS operatives thought that. Families weren't that

bloody stupid, though.

So, Dean thought to himself, I know Terry, I've been introduced to the Doc, and now

there's someone called Bastard to contend with.

Fuck me!

What about the others?

The Doc glanced at Terry, who nodded back in understanding.

"This in my 2nd in command Corporal Smale, though we calls him Clink on account of

the fact that he's spent a lot of time in one over the years." Terry indicated the bloke

standing close by. He had a cheeky grin which Dean immediately understood and liked.

"This is Bastard. Well, his actual name is Mark Carpenter, but Bastard is something

that's come to stick over the years, given his sadistic nature. He's also a dab hand with

an angle-grinder." Terry pointed to the guy standing just behind the Doc. He was about

the same height as Terry, with dark hair and deep blue eyes that gazed into Dean's almost

menacingly. Dean decided he was going to watch his back with that one.

As though hearing his thoughts, the Doc leaned forward, her voice still sounding bored as

hell. "He's not as bad as he seems. He's a bit of a nutter, but then most people in the

SAS are. He's just refreshingly honest about it."

The Doc winked at Dean, which kinda startled him a little. Dean was starting to be

intrigued by this woman. She seemed so bored with everything. Surely something could surprise her?

"And this is Skunk." Terry pointed to the last member of the group. "The reason for his

name is two fold. One:" He raised a finger. "He could give your car an insurance right-

off just by sitting in it and farting." He raised a second finger. "And second: he's

expertise in farting is only marginally succeeded in his adeptness at combustible

materials." Terry grinned proudly. "You only know he's around when you smell the

explosions, and by then it's more than a little too late."

The introductions over with, the Doc made a moved towards Sam, her features schooled

into a concerned professionalism that Dean recognized. He'd met a few doctors over the

years, but this one seemed to actually know what she was doing. Even so, he hesitated a

little before moving aside.

Terry, sensing Dean's protectiveness towards Sam, put an arm around Dean's shoulder,

trying to get him back away and leave the Doc to it. Dean stiffened at that, and Terry

backed off in understanding.

The Doc put her hand tenderly to Sam's face. "Ok sweetheart. I'm just going to check

out the hole in your leg. Make sure it's ok." She took off the bandage and glanced at the

wound.

Then she noted a few things that had her troubled.

Then she realized what it was, and a part of her wanted to wail in full little girl mode _this_

_isn't fair…._ But she kept to a respectful silence.

Sam groaned and his eyes fluttered open. Fixing his eyes on the woman in front of him

him, Sam went ballistic.

"Dean!..." He fought the pain as he struggled.

Then there was Dean. Sam fixed his eyes on him and relaxed.

"Sam? It's ok. This is the Doc, she's a friend of Terry's. You gonna be ok little

brother."

Sam sank back a little and trusted in what Dean had told him. His brother amazed him;

Dean was just unstoppable. He would never let anything happen to him…but... he felt strange. He wanted to let go.

But I can't . Isn't it pretty though? He was seeing stars. I'm dying, Sam thought to himself.

And he was lost. And now he was scared.

I'm not ready to go. Dean...

The Doc performed a few checks and wasn't too amused by what she'd found.

She turned a straight gaze onto Dean and Terry.

"That wound's infected. Badly. I don't think the anti-biotics are going to help," with a

sad glance at Terry, and with a feeling of failure, she related the rest of the bad news. "I

don't think he's getting past this one that easily." The Doc put a hand to her nouth as she stared at the ground, before

looking back up again. "I think that round was poisoned."

Seeing Dean's expression, and noting the guilt complex about to take place, the Doc

grabbed his arm and looked away into the forest.. In a low voice she told him, "This isn't

your fault, you did everything you could under the circumstances…"

Dean, fear and grief tormenting him, interrupted. "You don't know that! I pulled that

slug out……" He sobbed. "I should've been more careful…"

The Doc, not a soft woman by nature given how'd she grown up and who her friends

were now, was not impervious to Dean's plight. But it was Sam's future that worried

her. She, like the rest of the team, knew what was riding on this.

She spoke quietly.

"There's hope Dean. We just need to get Sam out of here ASAP. And that's not going to be easy."


	9. Chapter 9

Ullo darlin's! Are we having fun yet?

As you can see, I had a lot of time on my hands with this one. Hope you don't get too bored.

Always remember:

"Whoo hoo!" - Homer Simpson, The Simpsons.

**A Debt Paid Part 9**

Terry hung his head a little at the bad news. It felt as though everything he'd done to help the Winchester's thus far had been a complete waste of time.

_Gordon poisoned the bullet? Shit!_

Clink had filled him in on everything that had happened in his absence before they reached the clearing, including Sadler arranging to have his car knackered.

He'd grinned at that. Terry would love to meet the dickhead who'd ballsed that one right up.

His own team's performance, in contrast, had been virtually spot on, though that was no surprise. Clink had planned this well.

He turned to the Doc, who was checking Sam's blood pressure.

Terry watched as she frowned a little, then pulled out her stethoscope, gently unbuttoned her patient's shirt and checked his breathing.

Sam kept staring wildly around him, gripping his brother's hand tightly. Occasionally he shuddered, either with the toxin raging through his system or with pain, Terry couldn't tell. Probably both.

He crouched down and filled Dean in on the information he'd managed to extract from Gordon.

Dean stared at him. "Sonofabitch! Your own CO's behind all this?" Terry nodded grimly. Dean glanced down at his brother, thoughts racing. "Is he working alone?"

"That I don't know, though it wouldn't surprise me. He's always been a sandwich short of a picnic that one." Replied Terry. "He may well have some support higher up in command and he might have had additional help getting Gordon out of the slammer….." Terry shrugged.

Dean nodded. He knew who that person was. _Hendrikson._

"Sarge?" Bastard approached carefully. "I've been in contact with Alpha 1." He hesitated.

Terry immediately moved out of ear shot of the Winchester's, allowing the Doc to keep monitoring Sam. He would speak with Dean again later; Gordon had told him a lot more than that.

"Out with it lad," Terry steeled himself for more bad news as Clink and Skunk looked up from checking over their packs.

"They've had reports that Sadler's moving out, so they've changed course. Mike says they can still come and get us but they'll have to take a detour to avoid being seen." Bastard handed over a sheet of paper. "Coordinates, sarge. Where Mike said it's safe to rendezvous."

Terry glanced at the figures and then at the map; his heart nearly stopped. _That's fucking miles to go. Sam'll never make it….._

Aware that Bastard was watching his reaction, Terry kept his own face expressionless. Besides, he knew he was already asking too much from Mike.

Mike Armstrong was an excellent helicopter pilot who had immediately offered to help out with this rescue mission once he heard that Terry was in trouble.

He knew the area well, having grown up here, and he and Terry went way back. Mike was well aware of Sadler's duplicity. One of his brothers had died in the same explosion in Iraq that had been ordered by Sadler. Mike never felt any animosity towards Terry, knowing he'd had little choice.

Terry thought for a moment then strode across the clearing to the radio equipment his team had brought with them. He felt several sets of eyes watching him, one of which he knew was Dean Winchester's. Picking up the handset he took a deep breath.

"Alpha 1, this is Alpha 2, come in." With one thumb hooked in the pocket of his jeans, Terry stared across the clearing at Dean and Sam. Dean continued to stare back; there was worry in that young gaze along with an understandable amount of anger.

The radio crackled a little, before a cheery Canadian voice spoke out. "Alpha 2 this is Alpha 1. That you Terence?"

Terry smiled a little. Mike was the only one who could get away with calling him that.

"Yep. How's it hanging fly-boy?"

There was a brief chuckle. "I'm good." The conversation turned serious. "I know what you're gonna say."

"You do? Good. Then I won't have to bore you with the details." Terry fiddled with the dial, trying to lessen the interference.

There was a silence in which Terry worried he might have lost communication with his old friend. "Mike? You still there mate?"

There was a long sigh. "Yeah I'm still here. Look Terence, I daren't come in any closer; word has it Sadler's brought in some sophisticated long range radar. He's already sweeping the area looking for you guys. Getting you out is gonna be hard enough, but at least you guys can hide out for a while, you can disappear. But he's on to me."

It was Terry's turn to sigh as he swung round in the opposite direction, staring out into the forest. "Not that simple mate…."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The Doc carried on examining Sam, checking his eyes, his temperature, but Dean noticed her discreet glances in Terry's direction. She was watching the Sergeant's reactions as he spoke into the radio. Dean found himself doing the same until the Doc spoke.

"Your brother's got a distinct pyrexia now, and jaundice is setting in. Whatever that substance is, it's severely hepatotoxic. And fast." She muttered to Dean, "Fortunately, because he was wearing a tourniquet for some time, the effects have been delayed."

Dean didn't have a clue what The Doc was talking about, and his confusion must have shown because she turned to face him.

"His temperature is way too high for my piece of mind." Her voice was soft but professional, her sky blue eyes kindly. "I think the toxin is attacking Sam's liver, which is even more bad news."

Dean glanced down at his brother, a host of questions lined up. "How can you tell? What does that mean?"

The Doc leaned forward and gently widened Sam's eyes in order for Dean to see the whites, which were now a pale yellow. "Jaundice." The Doc looked at Dean. "It's a classic sign of liver failure, and if we don't find a way to help him then Sam will die."

Dean looked shocked at the news; his eyes darted between his brother and the Doc.

"No." his head was shaking. "That's not right. No way, not now….."

His breathing became panicked, his grip on Sam's hand tightening even further. "Sam….you're not going to die. Ok? You're not…..Sam." He finished with a hopeless whisper, a tear finally making its way down his face.

Sam smiled wearily up at Dean when he heard him speak; he didn't seem at all worried, though he probably didn't understand what was going on. His eyes closed again.

With renewed resolve, Dean turned to face the Doc. "He's gonna be fine. I don't care what you say…."

"It's not humanly possible to survive without a liver." The Doc interrupted firmly. "But we still have time. If we can get him back to my clinic I can treat him, but I still need to know what the toxin is." She got to her feet. "Bastard? Over here a minute would you?"

She turned round and Bastard was already there, saluting her. "Sir?"

The Doc saluted back. "Bastard I've told you before, there's no need for such formality, especially out here."

"Right you are sir." He saluted again. She was getting the distinct impression he was taking the piss.

Rolling her eyes in mild amusement, she grasped his arm and march him away, talking in a low voice.

Dean heard Sam muttering something and leaned over him. "You ok Sammy?" He placed his palm on his brother's forehead, wincing at the heat belting out. Sam was shuddering again, hands ice-cold, and his eyes were open and filled with pain.

Dean swallowed hard, remembering the Doc's words.

_Sam will die….._

"Not a chance." Dean told his sibling as he gently raised Sam's chest up and forward. Positioning himself against the tree, he laid his brother back on to his own chest, placing his arms around him to keep him warm. With his mouth close to Sam's ear, he whispered "Not a chance little bro, I'm not letting you go so easily. We're both getting outta here alive."

Dean closed his eyes briefly, "_You keep fighting for me, ya hear?"_

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

After Terry explained Sam's predicament to Mike there was a shocked silence, followed by an inventive array of expletives. _Mike's spent way too much time around me and the lads_, thought the Sarge

When the swearing had died down Terry spoke.

"You see our problem then."

"Jesus! Does _anything_ go right for these guys?"

"Not in the limited time I've known them."

"Damn!"

"And possibly not for their entire lives." Terry puffed out his cheeks, considering the options left.

"May be…" There was a surge of static over the set, drowning out Mike's voice.

Terry clicked on "Say again mate?"

Mike came back on loud and clear. "May be I can come in a little closer; try to fly under the radar?"

Terry responded immediately. "You obviously haven't seen the height of the forest canopy. Not an option mate. Saddler'll have you stitched up like a kipper the moment your arse twitches" Glancing round at his team he came to a conclusion. "We'll have to think of something else, but for now assume we're going ahead with the rendezvous."

Terry signed off wishing the pilot luck and went in search of the Doc. It was a conversation he was not looking forward to.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The minute the Doc finished what she had to say Bastard disappeared into the gloom of the forest. She sniffed the deep scent of pinewood then made her way back to the clearing.

Terry spotted her immediately.

The Doc could escape and evade with the best of them, disappearing when needed, but in clinical mode she cut a rather imposing figure.

Terry's respect for the Doc was nothing to do with the fact she was a rupert, a Captain in fact (usually that would be a reason to hate her), and everything to do with her no-nonsense approach and quick-thinking.

Her concern for her patients was always personal, and Terry often wondered how she survived like that without burning out. But then not many people knew about the Doc's own not-often used "special abilities".

At the moment she was striding slowly back to the Winchesters, hands in pockets, a worried and thoughtful frown gracing her aristocratic features. Though the rest of his team were no where near as attractive as the Doc, they seemed to be adopting very similar expressions lately, and Terry was pretty certain the same could be seen on his own ugly mug.

Oh well, Terry thought. Here goes.

Terry met up with the Doc at the Winchester's tree. She was talking to Sam and Dean.

"…I've sent Bastard to interrogate Gordon again," she was saying, "if anyone can find out what that substance is he can."

Terry thought for a moment. "There's something else that might help." He glanced at Dean before continuing in dead-pan mode. "I accidentally on purpose shot Gordon with his own rifle."

Dean managed a smirk, whilst the Doc raised an eyebrow.

Terry grinned "In the knee."

"Makes a change from your last victim I suppose…" replied the Doc dryly, checking Sam's breathing again, raising him up and placing the stethoscope against his back. "At least this one will be more forthcoming with the info."

After a pause, she laid Sam back against Dean.

"Doc, I've just been on the radio with Mike." Terry's voice sounded a bit strained.

The Doc turned to stare up at him, "let me guess. It's not good news?" Terry nodded. "Didn't think so. Ok go ahead and drop the bomb."

He glanced at the brothers, not wanted to add their burdens. "May be somewhere more private…."

Dean cut in before the Doc could reply, his voice angry. "No. I have a right to know if it affects us. You tell me now Terry, you bastard! And no holding back!" He was almost shouting now causing Sam to stir.

Terry raised his hands in a placating gesture, and crouched down to Dean and Sam's eye level. He took a deep breath and told them straight.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Clink and Skunk were checking their weapons and ammo when Bastard appeared beside them. He'd planned on going straight to the Doc but had seen her deep in conversation with the Sarge.

"The Doc sent me to have a word with Gordon, find what that poison was." Bastard handed over a scrap of paper. "It took me a while but I got it out of 'im."

Clink accepted the paper and read it, not bothering to speculate on Bastard's methods. He had enough to deal with.

"Bloody hell!" He read it again. "Is this right?"

Bastard looked decidedly unhappy. "Yeah, that's what I thought Corp. There's no antidote for that bugger." _Which was why Gordon had suffered a rather nasty groin injury as a side_ _effect_, he thought to himself.

Skunk shook his head. "I can't believe they've officially put this stuff out in the field so soon. It's not even been properly tested yet!"

Clink scowled "you're forgetting something mate. This aint an official operation."

He faced his colleagues, "I'd better let Tel know that the gloves are off." He slapped the paper angrily. "This fucker must've come from Sadler."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Clink, Skunk and Bastard approached the Sarge and the Doc cautiously, and handed over the paper.

The Doc's eyes widened. "The XT3 drug? How the hell did Gordon get hold of an experimental toxic chemical?"

Terry was fuming. "Isn't it obvious? Captain Sadler's been playing the role of Bond Villain a little too well. All he needs now is a fucking cat."

"But I didn't give clearance for that to be released. They were supposed to wait for me to perform an independent environmental risk assessment!" The Doc yelled furiously at no one in particular.

It was Dean who spoke next, his voice cold. "I think it's safe to say Doc, that your authority has been by-passed." He glanced up at Terry. "Your C.O clearly hasn't been working entirely alone dude."

There was a terrible lull in the conversation. Nothing more to say.

"Alright lads, get back to your posts. I want a nice easy watch with no hassle. Doc a word please?" Terry walked off into the forest with the Doc trailing despondently after him.

Clink and lads nodded to Dean and looked sympathetically at Sam. Bastard lingered for a second whilst his team mates slipped away into the dusk.

"Take this. The way things are going you might need it mate." He handed Dean a Glock 17, fully loaded, and an extra few clips. "There's one in the chamber." Dean stared at the weapon, and looked up to thank the guy.

But he'd already gone.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean clutched Sam tighter to him. If he'd felt desperate before, then it was nothing compared to this.

_This can't be happening! This can't be happening! This can't be happening!..._

The same litany kept repeating itself over and over in his head.

Sam groaned as his brother's grip on him grew tighter. "Dean? Can't..b..breathe…."

Dean relaxed his grip a little. "Sam? Can you hear me?"

He felt Sam nod. "Yeah. Feel weird. Why's it so cold?..."

Dean gave a small laugh he definitely didn't feel, and tried to wipe away an errant tear, "'Cos its winter in Canada you dope. Told you to wear your thermals dude."

Sam chuckled "Yeah, and I would've drowned in that damned river from the weight." They both laughed. Sam grew serious for a second. "You ok Dean?" His voice was a weak whisper that nearly broke Dean's heart.

Dean took a calming breath. "Yeah, I'm fine Sam." He wasn't sure how much his brother had heard or understood as Terry had explained the conversation with the chopper pilot. But he really hoped to Christ that he hadn't heard the one that followed.

_Gordon you bastard!_

No antidote? Who the hell releases something like that into circulation without an antidote, other than terrorists?

Dean thought back to all the supernatural beings he and Sam had fought and killed over the years. It didn't seem credible that the very people they were trying to protect could stoop to such methods, but then it wouldn't be the first time.

Sam lay there trying to think, his brain feeling fuzzy.

He knew Dean was holding something back from him and he didn't like it. He preferred to be kept in the loop, having learnt that nothing less than the full facts would keep them both alive.

Sam knew that something had gone on, that new information had come to light, because he'd heard the worry in Dean and Terry's voice. He hadn't been able to work out what they were saying, but the anger in the Doc's had also been clear. That part had woken him up.

Things were bad.

"Dean?" Sam tried to look at his brother, but it took too much energy to move.

"Yeah Sam."

"Tell me." He heard Dean sigh.

"There's nothing to tell Sam."

"Don't bullshit me!" The strength and resolve in Sam's voice shook Dean a little. "I need to know. Something's wrong, I can feel it." At this point Sam found the strength he needed to sit up and twist round enough to glare at his brother.

Dean matched the glare. "Sam lie still and rest for Christ sake!" He tried to pull Sam back and restrain him, "you shouldn't be moving." Sam resisted and carried on glaring, his eyes bright with fever and anger.

Grabbing Dean's shirt in one of his fists, he growled menacingly "tell me. I need to know!"

Sam swayed a little, gasping in pain as his grip weakened and he fell back.

Dean caught him assuming his brother had lost consciousness again, but Sam's eyes were still open, begging for Dean to tell him the truth. After an agonizing pause Dean nodded slowly and started to explain.

"The bullet Gordon put in your leg…." Dean faltered for a second then continued. "Sam, it was poisoned. That's why you have to stay still, so it doesn't spread."

"Oh God." Sam whispered, closing his eyes briefly, and then looked at Dean. "There's a cure though. Right?"

Dean hung his head for a second, fighting back tears of frustration. Then he looked up at Sam again. "No. I'm sorry Sam, there's no cure." His voice nearly broke on that last word.

Sam stared at Dean, and then turned his head away. "Anything else?" There was no feeling or expression in his voice, which doubled the guilt Dean was feeling.

Dean didn't want to continue but Sam was right, he deserved to be told.

_Please forgive me Sammy._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Terry and the Doc sat down on a fallen log. In the distance they could both hear the mutterings of the team as they settled in for a long night.

"Sam's dying." It was a statement, not a question.

The Doc nodded. "'fraid so Tel." Her voice was soft and sad.

He looked down at his feet, scuffing at the ground a little. "And there's nothing we can do for him?"

The Doc said nothing for a while, just picked up a pinecone and hurled into a tree with such force it shattered.

"And there's really no way of getting out of here sooner?" The Doc asked.

The Sergeant shook his head. "Either Mike'll be spotted coming into the drop zone, or we'll all get nicked on the way out."

They sat in silence for a few minutes until the Doc spoke again.

"There is one option available to us." She kept on staring straight ahead as she felt Terry turn concerned eyes on her. "And don't look like that. It wouldn't be the first time."

"No way! The last time you tried that bollocks you nearly died."

"Terry I was twenty one years old and barely able to control it. That was years ago." argued the Doc.

"Yeah, and I'll bet you haven't been practicing since, which means yet again: no fucking way!"

"It's Sam's only chance Tel! Don't make me pull rank on you!"

There was a stunned silence.

Terry and the Doc stared at each other, a clear battle of wills being raged.

"You may be a Captain and I'm only a sergeant, but I'm still the one leading this mission." Terry continued in a low angry voice. "And that makes me responsible for the lives of every person on it. Including yours."

"I see. So you want to go back and tells those lads we can't help them? That the one and only chance they've got has been denied because of a pissing match between the company sergeant and the medical officer? Fine! You go ahead and be my guest, but leave me out of it!"

She got up and stalked back to the clearing, her dark blond hair catching the firelight as she drew nearer. Terry growled to himself in frustration. He knew his friend was right, but that didn't make it easier. All the men in the team felt acutely protective of the Doc, and wouldn't react well if something happened to her.

Which was likely if she insisted on going through with this.

But as the Doc had pointed out, it _was_ Sam's only chance.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Just for the record, I've no idea if there is such a toxin, experimental or otherwise, called XT3, though I doubt it;

I named it after our 2006 model RAV4 because I couldn't think of anything more original.

But just in case: Dean? Keep your brother away from Gordon mate!

And Toyotas.

Thanks again for the reviews. Keep 'em coming!


	10. Chapter 10

Dear all,

thought it was about time we had a chapter mainly dedicated to the brothers themselves and how they're both dealing with this latest bomb I've dropped on them.

Hope it isn't too pathetic and mushy, but please let me know if it is.

Regards,

ST.xxx.

**A Debt Paid Part 10**

Sam was really trying to think hard now. He couldn't believe how things had turned out.

Dean had fallen into a fitful doze a short while ago, but Sam was struggling. It wasn't that he couldn't sleep, just the opposite. He refused to sleep, scared that he wouldn't wake up again.

Sam had been scared a lot in his young life but never like this. Oh he wasn't scared for himself so much, well, may be a little. But he _was_ absolutely terrified for Dean. Sam had heard the fear in his brother's voice as he'd explained the current situation. He'd seen the pain flash in Dean's eyes before he looked away, but there was something else there.

Sam knew what it was; guilt. Dean was blaming himself for all this, and if self-loathing was something the Winchester's were good at, then Dean was a fucking master. PhD even. From the University of Self-Hate, probably in some shit hole like Detroit.

What the fuck am I saying? Sam thought to himself smothering a laugh. I guess that toxin's really kicking in now. Never thought being poisoned would be like going on the happy juice.

His thoughts went back to Dean, and he lifted himself up a little to stare at him. His brother was stirring and muttering, his eyes moving rapidly around beneath the lids, and occasionally he frowned deeply. Dean still held Sam tightly to him, as though keeping him there would in turn keep him alive, keep him from falling.

Smiling sadly, Sam gently eased out of Dean's grip amazingly without waking him. Struggling to his feet and swaying dangerously, Sam staggered away already missing the warmth of his brother's embrace.

But he had to go. Somewhere. Away from here.

He didn't want Dean to have to watch him die, not like this.

Sam limped along as silently as he could into the forest, not really knowing what he was doing or where he was going. Already he was starting to lose his train of thought and could no longer remember what he was trying to accomplish. He stopped and leaned heavily against a tree, breathing fast. The right side of his abdomen hurt as his liver complained, but his leg was worse.

What am I doing again? Something about leaving Dean, not letting Dean see me….

"Dean?" He whispered aloud, unable to find the strength to yell.

Christ! Where is he? Is he alright?

Gotta find Dean….

In the gloom of the forest and the rapidly approaching night, Sam thought he saw someone moving through the trees and panicked.

He thought he heard someone call his name, but wasn't sure.

Backing away, he turned and tried to run, but in the growing darkness he didn't see the deep gully and plunged headlong into it.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Skunk was on first watch and lay in the shadows, assault rifle cocked and ready, though the team wasn't really expecting any trouble tonight. Sadler won't be ready to come after them yet, though it paid to be prepared.

It was starting to get cold and he was glad of the extra layers he was wearing.

He liked this kind of duty, which was a rarity amongst his kind. Most found it intensely boring, rather like those whining private detectives when they describe their job on stakeout as unglamorous. It required a lot of patience, which was something Skunk had in truck loads. The job of explosives expert was not a career for the hot-headed.

At least not for long, he chuckled to himself. But he liked the quiet of the forest at night; it was one of the few times in his long career that he had any form of peace, so he was determined to make the most of it.

Skunk was just about settled when he heard a noise behind him. He glanced back to the clearing still bathed in dim firelight, and spotted one of the Winchester's getting to his feet. Skunk frowned a little when he realized it was Sam.

"He's not supposed to be up and around." He muttered to himself. "Perraps he's gone to splash his boots."

The younger brother seemed to be having some trouble staying upright, then made he's way out of the clearing.

Skunk glanced over to where he team mates were catching some shuteye, and picked up a pinecone.

Clink went straight from REM to being fully awake as soon as the pinecone hit him.

"What it is Skunk?"

"Sam. Looks like he's answering a call of nature. Just thought I'd warn you 'cos he's having trouble standing."

He pointed to where he's last seen the lad.

Clink nodded and quietly made his way over to Dean, who was just starting to awaken. Clink sped that process up by the heavy application of his elbow to Dean's ribs, who gasped for a second and then blinked rapidly, looking wildly around him.

"Sam?" His eyes came to rest on the Corporal. "Where is he? What's going on?"

"Easy mate," Clink placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Looks like your brother decided to go for an evening constitutional. Thought may be you'd want to keep an eye on him, make sure he's ok?" Clink could have done this instead but didn't think that would be appreciated by the brothers. He handed over a small maglite, "just in case."

Pocketing the flashlight, Dean nodded gratefully. "Which direction did he go?"

Clink pointed.

"Thanks man." The Corporal nodded and watched as the older Winchester scrambled up and ran out of the clearing. Clink decided to stay there until they both returned.

A few minutes after Dean left, the Doc appeared, her long purposeful strides suggesting that her sense of humour had packed its bags and run off with the milkman. She stopped when she saw Clink and noticed a certain lack of Winchester in the surroundings. She raised an eyebrow awaiting an explanation.

The Corporal kept it as short as possible given the mood she was in.

"Sam's gone for a leak and Dean's keeping an eye on him Sir."

The Doc nodded distractedly then bent down and started rummaging through her pack, pulling out virtually everything in there. "Where is it?" She muttered to herself. Then she seemed to find what she was looking for and her agitation waned to be replaced by relief.

Clink regarded the Doc with a strange look on his face, then turned back to the small fire, occasionally adding more fuel, though not much. Just enough to keep the fire going for Sam's sake; he'd need it when he got back to stave off the cold.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam found himself rolling down a steep incline for quite a long way, his body taking rather a battering from the terrain, including a painful whack on the head. Finally he hit the bottom of the gully and came to rest face up in a muddy stream, and lay there stunned.

Sam blinked and tried to move but his wounded leg screamed in protest at the insult, having already pushed it too far today, so he stayed where he was. Then he felt the cold of the stream water seeping into his clothes and tried again. This time, with a loud gasp of agony, he pulled himself free of the mud with a grotesque sucking noise.

Sam groaned as he dragged himself a few feet back up the slope, then looked up wincing in pain. There was no way he was getting back up that without help.

His ribs hurt, breathing hurt, hell just thinking hurt!

Where the fuck am I? Where's Dean? His thoughts were jumbled and it was scaring him.

Sam laid his head back and frowned, feeling cold and tired.

Eventually, wondering why he hadn't thought of it before, he succumbed to blessed nothingness.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Desperately searching the forest with his eyes, Dean whirled around trying to find some trace of where his brother had gone.

He was soon rewarded when he spied someone leaning against a tree, and recognized his brother's form in the dark.

"Sam?" But as Dean started towards him, Sam backed off, turned, and then disappeared from sight with a loud thump.

Shit! Dean started running. It seemed to take forever to get there but soon he was standing at the spot he'd last seen his brother.

Carefully taking a few steps around the area, he found the reason for Sam's disappearance. Remembering the small maglite Clink had lent him, he pulled it out of his pocket and shone it down the incline.

It was a deep ditch and Dean was pretty certain that his dying brother was down there some where. It would have been funny if it weren't so damn tragic.

Carefully climbing down the side, holding the maglite in one hand and using his other to keep his balance, Dean wondered what the hell Sam had been thinking coming out here by himself. But then, with the toxin working its way through his little brother's system, may be Sam hadn't been thinking at all.

These thoughts kept Dean busy for the next few minutes, holding the panic at bay.

May be Sam just needed to stretch his wounded leg… (Why didn't he wake me?)

May be Sam needed some time alone to come to terms with all this: it had been a hell of a day, and then to be effectively told he was dying, with no cure……

Dean came to a sudden halt, his blood running cold at next the thought.

May be Sam was running from _him_.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd pulled a stunt like that to protect his older brother. And Dean had to confess that he hadn't done such a bang up job in coping with Sam's pending death, especially when relaying the news to the poor guy.

Sam hated to see Dean suffer.

Oh god. That's it! He was leaving me so I wouldn't have to see him die.

Dean frantically sped up his descent.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Terry strode up to the Doc with a dangerous glint in his eye. She was reading down a list of notes and sorting through some labeled Ziploc bags. His eyes widened, anger almost boiling over.

"You take those with you on every mission?" His voice was low and deadly.

The Doc looked up at him, not in the least bit worried by his tone. "As a matter of fact I do. I've never had to use them since that first time, of course. I always rely on modern medicine" She was back to using that bored-sounding voice that meant she'd made up her mind and wouldn't budge.

Terry huffed in frustration. "Doc…"

"Are you about to suggest that risking my life to save yours back then was a bad move? Not worth it? Are you that ungrateful?" She slipped from bored to almost catatonic.

The Sarge nearly lost it there and then. "What the fuck are you talking about woman? Of course not!"

She looked at him again. "Exactly Tel. I'm not letting Sam die for that same reason. Those lads are worth the risk."

"Doc you have a wonderful gift, but it carries too many risks, and not just to your life if it goes wrong." He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice sounding tired now. "If you perform that cleansing spell, particularly on someone like Sam Winchester then you may as well just light a big supernatural beacon on Mount Everest and invite all the occupants of hell to a cheese and wine party. With us being the cheese and wine!" His tone was getting angry again.

The Doc put up a hand to stop him. "If this works as well on Sam as it did on you all those years ago, then Sam should be fit enough for us leave as soon as we've packed up." She stared at the Sarge, willing him to let it go. "We can be at the RV point and away before Sadler figures out where we got to."

"Doc, Sadler's already begun sweeping the area for us. Give him another a few hours and he'll have our trail."

"Then we haven't much time to lose then. Right?" The Doc was grinning smugly, knowing she had him there.

"You really are a stubborn bitch."

"So they tell me. Oh and Terry?"

"Yeah."

"That's "stubborn bitch SIR" to you."

"Right sir."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean swept the maglite around him, stepping and sometimes sliding down the incline at a dangerous rate. Looking down he realized that he'd almost reached the bottom, when he thought he saw something in the flashlight beam. Swinging it back round, Dean squinted into the cave-like gloom of the gully until he found him.

Sam was lying on his back deathly still, his face turned away from the light beam.

"Sam!" Dean scrambled over the edge of the muddy stream towards his brother, running a few feet up the slope to where Sam lay. Dropping to his knees, he gently grabbed Sam's shoulders and shook him. "Come on Sam! Wake up buddy!" Checking his neck he found a pulse that was far too weak for Dean's liking.

"Sammy" Dean growled, as he placed his palm on Sam's chest, feeling for the rise and fall that suggested he was breathing. There _was_ a rise and fall, but it was only slight and shaky.

"Come on Sam don't do this to me." He whispered pulling Sam into his arms and getting no response. "Please? Stay with me little bro. Stay with me..."

Dean wept silently, not wanting his brother to hear him should he wake up.

But Dean knew that Sam wasn't waking up again. He was too far gone now.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Clink approached Terry and nodded respectfully to the Doc.

"Sarge, they should've been back by now."

Terry reacted instantly. "Get Bastard off his fat lazy arse and put 'im on stag with Skunk. Clink stay nearby and keep low. Maintain radio silence just in case. Come on Doc." Clink nodded and headed off.

Terry and the Doc made their way out into the forest, the Doc carrying her precious "equipment".

With red filtered flashlights held out in front of them they started tracking the Winchesters. It didn't take long before they found the trail; Sam had obviously been too out of it to bother covering his tracks.

The Doc and Terry had adopted a five meter spread and were making good progress when the Doc let out a low whistle. Terry looked up sharply and silently made his way over.

"This must be where Dean caught up with him." Terry nodded at the Doc's statement and swung his torch around, and spotted the gully.

"This way," and the two of them made their way down, not daring to call out. If Sadler had caught up with them sooner than they'd thought then advertising their presence wouldn't be a wise move. They only hoped that Sadler wasn't responsible for the brother's disappearance.

Pretty soon, Terry and the Doc found them.

Dean was cradling Sam in his arms, head down and rocking to and fro. When the torchlight picked him out, he raised his tear-stained face and looked at them with cold, hard despondence in his eyes.

"If you've come to say your goodbyes you're just in time. He doesn't have long."

"He's still alive?" Terry asked hopefully.

At Dean's nod the Doc flew into action. Setting down her torch, she grabbed the Ziplocs and started making preparations. She handed Terry some strange looking candles and he planted them in the ground around the brothers.

"Dean, come away from Sam. This is too dangerous for you." The Doc was speaking as she was preparing.

Dean watched her in confusion, shaking his head. "I'm not leaving him."

"You won't be leaving 'im mate. You'll be right here waiting for 'im when he wakes up." Terry planted the last candle, and then forcibly heaved Dean to his feet. "If you want Sam alive and well, then do as she tells you." Terry pointed at the Doc who was lighting the first candles.

"What is this for fuck sake? A séance? Doesn't Sam have to be dead for that?" Dean retorted. He'd had enough. He was cold, tired and not in the mood for games.

The Doc turned to Dean, head bowed and staring at him, her eyes appearing to glow with an almost canine intensity in the candlelight. "You of all people should know there's more to this world than meets the eye." She turned back, sat on the ground and stared into the candles.

Dean stared in shock. "You're a witch?"

The Doc sighed at the interruption. "Being Christian rather than Pagan, I prefer the term natural mystic, but if you're more comfortable with witch then so be it."

"But what?..." Dean began.

Terry, who had stepped back to a respectful distance, grabbed Dean by the neck of his jacket and pulled him out of the way. He mouthed _Later!_

Dean swallowed hard and turned to watch his little brother lying there in the circle of candles. Fresh tears slid silently down his face.

Sam was barely breathing now as the toxin took over, shutting down his body bit by bit, and his face was now showing significant jaundice as his liver failed him.

The Doc leaned forward and gently picked up Sam's hand, closed her eyes for a second, then stood up. Her other hand produced a strange looking powder that sparkled in the dim light. It looked like crushed crystals, but not the kind that Dean had ever seen.

Slowly walking round, she allowed a small portion of the powder to fall in to each candle, which sent up a small fountain of sparks that lit the gloom of the gully. Soon all the fountains were firing and the Doc sat back down in her place, cross-legged. She picked up Sam's hand again, and closed her eyes.

It looked to Dean like one of those weird yoga classes that he'd once read about in some woman's magazine. He'd picked it up only because he was hoping to leer at some hot chicks in leotards; unfortunately, although there _were_ chicks in leotards, not one of them was a day under eighty. He shuddered at the memory.

Terry was also watching the proceedings, but with a sense of familiarity. He'd been conscious when the Doc tried it on him, so seeing it from the outside was a whole new experience. But mostly he was watching the Doc for signs of distress or illness. He knew it wouldn't be long, because he could see the beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead. This sort of spell had serious consequences for the user.

Sure enough, she let out a stifled groan and her body jerked violently. Dean shifted nervously and glanced at Terry. "She ok?" he asked in a low voice.

Terry merely nodded tightly, concern showing through the dirt on his face.

Dean watched as the Doc leaned toward Sam and appeared to be whispering to him, but he couldn't make out the words.

The fountains grew sharper, brighter, until it hurt to look at them. Both Dean and Terry closed their eyes to it, turning their heads sharply away.

Suddenly the light was gone plunging the gully into an almost-darkness.

There was a strange silence, like that before a storm, then a groan.

Dean and Terry turned back. The candles were still alight, but now Sam was sitting up and rubbing the bruise on his head.

"Sam?" Dean leapt over the candles to his brother, with barely concealed relief and concern warring on his face. Grabbing him, Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and held on tight. "Oh God Sammy, are you alright?" He leaned back slightly to check Sam over.

Sam was more than a little surprised to find himself in a bear-hug with his older brother.

"Yeah, I'm ok." He shook his head a little, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain, and winced.

"What is it Sam? You ok?" Dean had his hands at the side of Sam's head, staring at him closely.

"Yeah, I just hit my head on the way down here." Sam looked around in confusion. "What's with the candles dude? You holdin' a séance or something?"

Dean laughed at that and hugged his brother closely to him once more.

"We very nearly had to man." He breathed in Sam's ear, the strain of remaining fear still evident in his voice.

This time Sam wrapped his own arms around Dean, not knowing where he'd been but sure was glad to be back.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Doc!"

The boys looked over at Terry. The sergeant was seated on the ground with the Doc in his arms, shaking her gently. Her eyes were closed and showed no signs of opening. Terry's face was etched with worry and dread.

"Come on, wake up! We've got to move!"

But his friend remained silent.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

So, enough Sam and Dean for you? Not too mushy? I'd hate to demasculise (is there such a word? There is now!) the lads, not when there are other things I'd like to be doin to them.

Hurhurhurhur...


	11. Chapter 11

**A Debt Paid Part 11**

Terry tried to find a pulse, but got nothing.

Sam and Dean got to their feet, and with Sam wincing from the pain in his leg they made

their way carefully over to Terry.

Sam stared at the Doc then turned to glare at Dean.

"What happened here Dean? Huh? What kinda shit were you guys trying to pull?"

Dean glared at him. "Sam calm down! You were dying. Almost ….gone." He faltered on that last word. "I didn't know…."

With a grunt of discomfort, Sam crouched down by Terry, anger brimming over. "How you could let her do this? She did something didn't she? Somehow traded her life for mine?" Terry hung his head and Sam punched his arm. "Answer me you asshole!"

The Sarge slowly turned a cold, deadly glare on to the angry Winchester.

"Firstly, it wasn't a trade just a very dangerous spell." Terry's voice remained low and calm, but carried a warning edge to it. "Secondly, the Doc wouldn't be talked out of it. Not even the Devil himself could talk her out of something once she made her mind up. And thirdly, you ungrateful little shit," He grabbed the front of Sam's shirt and pulled the lad right up close to his face, causing Sam to gasp and Dean to try and step in, "you ever lay a finger on me again and I'll do worse things to you than Gordon ever could."

There was a stunned silence in which both brothers reflected on a few things; mainly that although this SAS operative was on their side he was still an extremely dangerous man, but also that Sam was still alive because of him and the Doc. They also realized that the Doc wasn't stupid and had chosen this path for good reason; she hadn't struck the boys as the type to risk her life needlessly.

Sam nodded slowly and hung his head a little. Terry surprised him at that point by giving him a gentle and reassuring pat on the back. He bent his head and stared into Sam's eyes. "I know lad. I know." He whispered softly, then, laying the Doc on the ground, he stood up taking Sam with him

The three men stared down at the former medical officer.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Bastard suddenly went rigid and trained his night scope out to the South. Something was moving in the night. Or someone. He signaled to Skunk who indicated that he'd also seen it. Within a second Skunk was gone.

Clink had hidden himself well at the edge of the clearing but Skunk soon appeared next to him.

"Corp?"

"Yeah. Spotted mate. I'd better let the Sarge know. You lads clear the place, get packed up and dampen the fire." Clink wasn't happy. "Looks like the buggers found us sooner than we thought."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Get back to the clearing lads. I'll follow on in a few minutes." The Sarge bent down and gently picked up the Doc. "I've got to take care of her now." At the sorrowful glances he added "we can't take her where we're going."

Dean, with a weary heart, placed an arm around his brother's shoulders and started helping him up the incline.

Neither of them could bring themselves to look back.

Terry laid the Doc down in a dense thicket of trees, way above the stream, took off his coat and laid it over her. He sat back and sighed. "Why eh mate? Couldn't you have let this go?"

But he knew in his heart that, had he been in her shoes, he would have made the same choice. The Doc had been all too aware of the circumstances. She'd been recruited by her Uncle James, Terry's father, after all. It was just that some of the sacrifices seemed too great.

Whenever these spells were used, it was never certain what the consequences would be.

He thought of the last time.

_Terry? Terry can you hear me? What I'm about to try….it's experimental and I'm not sure how things are going to turn out. If something goes wrong, get out! You understand? Quickly. You can always come back for me later._

"You're the best Doctor I've ever met. And one of the best soldiers I've ever worked with," and thinking of Clink, Skunk and Bastard, not to mention the Winchesters, he added "and that's saying a fucking lot mate."

He smiled and learned over, softly planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Stay safe Sir."

And then he made a promise to his younger cousin.

"I'll be back for you."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

When the brothers reached the top of the gully, Sam was breathing heavily with pain and exhaustion. The toxin and infection had been cleansed from his body, but the weariness from the other injuries persisted.

At least he has a fighting chance now, thought Dean.

He came to an abrupt stop and stared out into the night.

Someone was watching them.

Very slowly, Dean lowered his brother to the ground and stood silently listening. Sam tried to control his breathing as best he could; he'd also sensed something was off.

Clink stepped out from behind the tree right next to them and grinned when they jumped.

"Sorry to startle ya lads, but we have a problem." He glanced down into the gully. "Where's Sergeant Morgan?"

Dean gestured behind him to the gully. "He's still down there, said he'd be along in a minute.

Clink watched the Winchesters carefully. "What about the Doc?"

The brother's looked at each other with morose expressions, and that was all the Corporal needed to know. Grabbing Sam by the arm and forcing him up, he bade them follow him.

Moving in silence for quite a while, Clink suddenly stopped. The brother's looked around realizing they were back at the clearing. But it looked different. There was no fire for a start, but in the Clink's filtered torchlight it looked as though no one had ever been here.

The Corporal let out a low whistle. Within seconds, the brother's found themselves surrounded by a protective wall made up of the three SAS operatives, and all torch lights went out.

Clink, Skunk and Bastard took up a triangle around Sam and Dean, assault rifles pointing outwards. Sam felt a heavy pistol being nudged into his hands. He looked round at Skunk and nodded his thanks.

"Hey Dean mate?" Called Bastard softly, his back to him.

"Yeah?"

"Remember that Glock I gave you?" He didn't need to say anymore. Dean already had it in his hand. There was a soft click as he cocked it.

They all stood in perfect silence, waiting for Sergeant Morgan to appear, the tension in the air so thick a Samurai would have had trouble cutting it.

It didn't take long.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The Sarge took one more look back at his cousin, then ran up the gully as though it were no more than a mere bump in his path.

Before reaching the top, he was aware of the change in the atmosphere. The tide had turned too soon.

Terry caught sight of shadows moving in the distance, right down by the lake.

Running at full force, as quietly as he could, he legged it to the now darkened clearing. Without stopping he called softly to his team.

"Go. Go Go!"

Terry snatched the rifle out of the air that Skunk had thrown to him, and with Clink in the lead, the SAS and the Winchesters moved out.

And moved on.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Captain Sadler had already learned that Morgan's car hadn't gone up as planned by the time Dean had been pulling the bullet out of Sam's leg. He kept his temper well, as always.

It hadn't taken a genius to work out where to go next.

So he'd sent his troops down river with orders to spread out into two large assault teams.

"How long before they find them?" Came Hendrickson's voice.

The Captain allowed a smug grin to work its way forward. "Not long, my dear friend. Not long at all."

Hendrickson scowled. "I am _not_ your friend." He hated this guy in fact. It was in the FBI's agent's opinion that he was a lunatic. Hendrickson himself was only in this for the Winchesters, Dean in particular. He wasn't too worried about Sam; The Captain could take that annoying little shit out of the running if he wanted, but Dean was wanted for murder. Sam had aided and abetted his escapes, sure. But getting the older brother at the expense of losing the youngest to this guy was fine by him. In Hendrickson's eyes they were both guilty of something, and Sam would certainly get his comeuppance with Sadler.

It was just that Hendrickson was no longer entirely sure he agreed with the methods. In truth, he was conflicted. Having interviewed so many people who'd by chance ran into the Winchesters at some point, he was getting the feeling that things weren't as clear cut as he'd thought. Those people had revered the Winchesters.

Some had defended them to the hilt, aggressively so. Hendrickson rubbed the bruise on his jaw dealt him by a particularly feisty blonde lady down in Lawrence, Kansas. The boy's home town.

She lived in their childhood home no less, but had refused to divulge what they'd done to help her. At first she'd seemed nervous, and Hendrickson thought that this shy little lady could be easily intimidated into giving him answers.

But when he had suggested that Dean Winchester was a murdering sonofabitch, she'd laid him out.

Hmm. His mind was starting to form a picture, and he didn't like it.

These guys had some kind of hold over those people, but what was it? Some form of blackmail?

But no amount of digging had brought to light any dirty little secrets that the Winchester's could have used against them.

A threat to their very lives perhaps?

That seemed too far fetched.

But I'll find out, thought Hendrickson, determinedly. One way or another.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

One by one the men vanished deeper into the forest.

Dean had the Glock at the ready watching the way ahead, whilst Sam kept an eye out to the flanks. Once again the sarge backed up the rear, with Skunk on the left hand flank and Bastard on the right.

Clink kept a brutal pace that Sam struggled with but carried on without complaint.

Terry could almost hear the pounding feet not far off and whispered loudly, "Bloody move faster lads, now!"

Half an hour later, gunfire broke out and the group heard the noise of bullets zipping through the air and thudding into trees and the forest floor all around them. Terry, Skunk and Bastard started returning fire.

And so it had started.

The Winchester boys had never really been in an all out fire fight like this before and the adrenaline rush it gave them spurred them on, the noise almost deafening.

A shot came from close by narrowly missing Terry, and as he ducked Dean whirled round and opened fire with the Glock. It wasn't nearly so satisfying as the loud boom of the shotgun he was used to, but the strangled noise of pain from the trees, followed by a loud thud of someone going down hard, was good enough.

"Hold the line lads!" Yelled Sergeant Morgan, realizing there was a good chance of being over-run. And their ammo wasn't going to last much longer.

But he had a trick up his sleeve. It was called Skunk.

Another shot ricocheted off a tree near Bastard's head. Sam repeated his brother's actions with his own pistol, firing off two shots, also earning himself a few brownie points when the unseen assassin made a horrific gurgling noise.

Ducking, firing, and in Bastard's case laughing evilly, they fought their way onwards through the first wave of attacks.

Clink moved round trading places with Skunk. Then the Corporal, Terry and Bastard kept up the covering fire at the rear. Sam and Dean, moving round each other back to back, maintained high speed and precision gun fire into the trees whenever a shot got too close to the team.

One by one they all loaded new magazines.

"I'm out!" Sam yelled, only to find another two clips thrown his way. Catching them easily, he grinned as he re-loaded. If he was honest with himself he would have admitted that he was enjoying this as much as Dean.

The brother's carried on shooting at anything that moved.

Meanwhile, Skunk disappeared for a few minutes, and then came back with a smug smile on his face. He nodded to the Sarge.

"Move your fucking arses now lads!" Terry yelled.

And with occasional shots back into the trees all six of them darted away.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sergeant Garwood had seen the enemy up ahead and got too cocky, as he always did. But he was young and had been promoted through the ranks fast.

He knew that Captain Sadler had some influence, and in truth he really didn't trust the rupert – proving that he wasn't entirely stupid. But the Captain had spotted a like-minded individual, and now Garwood had his promotion; another one was on the way if this mission was successful.

Sending his team onwards he hung back a little, just to see what would happen.

One of his corporals missed the ultra-fine trip wire that had been set up after Sergeant Morgan's little outfit had retreated.

It wasn't just an explosion.

It was a lot of explosions.

Skunk, genius that he was, had set up the explosives in a Domino Rally effect. Once one trip went, so did the rest. And so, all along the front line, trees caught fire and fell, taking out all of Sergeant Garwood's team and most of the others that had gone in.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

If the noise of the gunfire had been loud, this was incredible.

Whilst Sam and Dean were startled, their temporary team mates were whooping with delight.

Team Morgan-Winchester kept on running.

Dean managed to keep his brother upright but knew Sam wouldn't be able to stand the punishing pace much longer.

Miraculously, no one was hit by the time they came to the rocky outcrop at the base of a large hill.

"We have to head over that and another five miles beyond to get to the emergency RV point." Terry pointed upwards.

Sam looked up wearily. The notion of having to climb it suddenly made it seem not so hill-like. More like a small mountain. "Aw crap," he muttered.

Terry saw the pain etched on Sam's face. "Dean, get your brother up and over. We'll follow on behind to keep the wolves at bay." He grinned at Clink. "How many, Corporal Smale?"

"Five left sarge," the Corporal grinned back, "over _there_ at least." He added pointing from the way they'd come. Then he pointed over to the South "and another ten over there".

Terry smirked. He glanced at the Winchesters who hadn't yet moved. "The fun's about to start." He gestured to them once again. "Get moving; we won't be long."

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

Dean shrugged and started up the incline, dragging his exhausted brother along with him.

It was tough terrain, extremely rocky with stones crumbling away under their scrambling feet, and would have been dangerous enough for a novice in broad daylight. But in virtual pitch black, it was proving almost lethal. Dean didn't dare switch on the maglite.

They kept hearing the sound of gunfire but it was getting further away. After a few minutes Dean figured it was safe to take a break. He sat his brother down on a rocky ledge and Sam collapsed back, his eyes closing briefly. He opened them again to find Dean staring at him.

"What?" He asked softly.

Dean looked down at the ground for a second before turning his gaze onto the scene below. He could occasionally make out muzzle flashes in the darkness as Terry's small team went up against fifteen or more of Sadler's soldiers. He could hear shouting. It sounded like Terry and his boys were indeed having fun.

"Dean?" Sam asked again.

"You were dying Sammy," Dean met his little brother's concerned gaze, unshed tears in his eyes. "I've never felt so…." He looked around unseeing before looking at Sam again. "I felt so useless. I couldn't help you. And then I woke up and you were gone."

Sam's heart broke a little on hearing that.

"Dean, I'm so sorry," he replied, his own eyes looking suspiciously bright. "I thought… I didn't know what I was thinking. I couldn't seem to get anything straight in my head."

Dean's face hardened for second. "What couldn't you get straight Sam? Running away from me? Leaving me to wonder what the hell had happened to you? _Again?_" This last word was spoken with such pained anger that Sam flinched.

Swallowing hard, Sam reached forward and tried to place a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder. But his brother batted it away angrily.

Sam tried again.

"Dean, one of the last things I remember was wanting to find you. But before that, yeah I was running from you. I…I couldn't let you…"

Dean interrupted harshly. "See you die? You think I relished that either Sam? I wanted to be there for you…." He smothered a choke. "…had to be there…"

He gave up and turned away. "You think it would've been any easier for me to have gone searching for you and just finding you dead?" He sniffed. "Which wasn't far off what happened by the way."

Sam was silent for a moment. "I know it sounds crazy. Hell, it sounds damn crazy to _me_ now, but I was thinking of you. You'd already watched Mom and Dad die; I wanted to save you from any more of that." He huffed at little. "I must've have been pretty high on that stuff to be so stupid, huh?"

He heard Dean smirk a little at that. "Nah. You've always been that stupid little bro." He paused. "I guess it doesn't matter now huh?"

Sam smiled sadly. "No. It doesn't."

They were both thinking of the Doc.

Dean turned back, offering a small smile of his own. "You 'bout ready to move your big ass, bitch?"

Sam rolled his eyes, relieved. "Jerk."

May be things would be ok.

They got up and carried on with their harsh journey.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

I rather liked writing this chapter. Nothing like a good rumble eh?

To Jenilee, and anyone else that was wondering, I removed that other story because I just wasn't happy with it. It needs more thought and more work. Not to worry. I _will_ work on it eventually. Have some other ideas on the go right now though.

Regards,

ST.xxx.


	12. Chapter 12

**A Debt Paid Part 12**

Terry, Skunk, Clink and Bastard had spread out and were firing rapidly.

Somewhere off to the left there was movement, and then someone was charging towards them. But not for long. Clink took him out with a single shot to the head.

There was another explosion not far off and the sound of screams filled the night air, just to add to the charming atmosphere.

"Well done Skunk!" Yelled Clink.

"Nice one my _son_!" Bastard added.

Terry advanced to the next tree and loaded another magazine. Leaning round the tree and firing, the Sergeant spotted more troops off to the left.

"Go go go!" Shouted Sergeant Morgan, and the lads wasted no more time. Following Terry's example, they slowly moved forward cutting the enemy to pieces bit by bit.

A loud _whoomph!_ was heard off to the left, followed by a swishing noise as a rocket launcher was fired.

"Take cover!" Yelled Skunk and the Team scattered backwards into the trees as the rocket struck the very place they'd been standing, and exploded with a loud boom. Trees fell, dirt rained down and various members of the team could be seen peering round stumps, mounds and fallen branches.

"Well that was novel," announced Clink.

Skunk grinned "I've got a poem. It goes "Boom Boom Boom Boom…" He started quoting from Blackadder Goes Forth, earning a round of snorts from his team mates. They'd all loved that show from the 1980s.

"You alright Bastard?" Called Terry.

Bastard stood up and shook his head a little. There was a thin stream of blood running down the side of his face.

"Yeah Sarge. Got a whack on the bonce though. Nuffin' a couple a parrots won't sort out."

"'Bout time someone knocked some sense into ya. We might actually get an intelligent conversation outta ya at last," said Skunk, causing the team to laugh loudly.

They all ducked a little as another rocket struck nearby, showering them with even more dirt. When the noise had died down they were still laughing.

"Fuck you mate," retorted Bastard, sniggering.

Skunk casually took aim and fired. A long, loud, rising scream of pain emanated quite some way from the front and then died out with a bubbling noise. Skunk nodded to himself in satisfaction. That took care of the rocket launcher.

Skunk finished off the poem, "Boom Boom Boom Boom."

Clink shook his head, grinning. "Fuckin' outrageous."

"Right," Terry weighed up their options. "Time to clean up. Save your ammunition. Let's go."

There came the sound of four machetes being unsheathed.

And so they split up and did a quick but thorough sweep of the area.

Throughout the next thirty minutes all over the forest could be heard spluttering and gurgling noises as throats were cut and spinal chords severed.

The silent assassins slipped away.

It was important they left no one behind that could follow them or at least put someone else on their trail.

Job done, Sergeant Morgan's team made their way to the foot of the hill and, with an ease that would have made a mountain lion envious, went up after the Winchesters.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean held his brother steady as they continued their ascent up the rocky hill. But when Sam stumbled on some loose shale, he fell to his knees, taking Dean with him.

He groaned loudly. White hot agony rolled up from his thigh as the stitches finally burst.

Dean could hear Sam breathing heavily with exhaustion, and knew his leg had to be hurting him. Not surprising really; it had been slow and hard going for the youngest Winchester.

"Sammy," he whispered softly, "Let's take a break huh? We're almost at the top."

Sam shook his head stubbornly. "Once we're over this hill, we still have another five miles to go." He stopped Dean before he could protest. "We can rest once we're down the other side."

In truth, Sam was worried they weren't out of danger yet and he'd feel a whole lot happier with the hill between them and the all-out battle that was currently raging down below. Even this far up, he could hear the explosions and gunfire.

Sam didn't want Dean put in danger, when it came down to it, and he knew in his current state he was a liability. He wanted Dean to leave him at the slightest hint of trouble so that at least one of them would survive tonight, but Sam knew his brother would rather die first.

Dean let Sam get his breath back, before reluctantly asking him if he was ready to go again. Sam nodded, but when Dean tried to haul him to his feet, he gasped in pain and fell back down. A wave of dizziness hit him and the bruise on his head throbbed aggressively in time to his rapid heart beat.

Dean put his hand on the wound at his brother's thigh and sucked in a harsh breath when he felt the cloying stickiness of fresh blood.

"Shit Sam!"

Laying him down against a rock, Dean tried to examine the wound in the near-darkness.

"Looks like you've messed up my handiwork Sammy." He shook his head in mock disapproval, trying to shed an amusing light on the matter. "I swear to god next time you get shot? You can stitch up ya own damn wounds!"

Sam snorted. "Yeah right. Like you'd let me."

"Huh. That's true. I still haven't got the blood stains out of the car's upholstery from the last time you tried that."

"Dude that wasn't me. That was your nosebleed, remember? When you swerved to avoid that dog and hit your head on the steering wheel?"

"Are you suggesting that I would bleed on my baby's skin? _I so think not!_"

"Oh I think so!"

"Nuh-huh!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"Bitch!"

"Jerk!"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The Team had launched themselves at the rocks in a five meter spread to cover as much ground as possible. That way they stood a better chance of not missing the brothers on the way up.

After a few minutes they soon heard the trade-mark good natured Winchester Bickering they'd come to recognize, mainly because it was so much like their own minus the swearing.

They all halted at Bastard's signal. Being closest he was the one to announce their presence, which he did in true Bastard style.

He popped his head up from behind a rock, and with his customary inane grin proclaimed: "I could murder a pint, what about you eh lads?" scaring the living shit out of the Winchester brothers, who had both immediately drawn their weapons.

"Damnit! I could've shot you!" said Dean angrily, though secretly found it kinda funny at the same time.

Bastard appeared to look confused. "Wouldn't the bullet actually have to catch me first?" He shrugged and thought for a moment. "A vindaloo would go down a right royal treat right now." He jumped over the rock signaling to the others.

It was Sam and Dean's turn to look confused. They glanced at each other in amusement.

Next up Skunk appeared, and having heard Bastard's rather unorthodox entrance attempted to explain.

"Please excuse my esteemed colleague for being a total cock. As you've probably gathered, he aint all the ticket." He added "God love the crazy fucker."

Bastard merely kept up his famous inane grin.

Pretty soon they were joined by Clink and the Sarge.

"Hey Sarge," Sam and Dean announced at the same time.

Terry nodded a greeting and stared around at the once-again team of six. "Well lads," he spoke to the Winchesters. "How ya doin'?" If he noticed the use of his rank he didn't show it.

He shone his filtered torch light on Sam in particular, and spotted the fresh dark stain on his jeans.

The Sarge frowned. "Stitches burst?" At Sam's nod, he signaled to Clink who dropped his pack. "Better get that sorted before we move off."

Before Dean could move or even say anything Clink threw him a small green pack, which he caught instinctively. He looked up at him. Clink had known Dean wouldn't let anyone else tend to his brother.

"Thanks Corp." which surprised and touched Clink. These boys weren't under military orders, just the opposite, and so weren't expected to recognize military rank.

Dean opened the first aid pack and got to work re-stitching Sam's leg.

Sam winced a few times but otherwise said nothing, whereas Dean asked the Team questions as he worked quickly.

"Sounds like you guys were having fun down there," this was met by a chorus of agreements and Dean grinned. "What happened?"

Seeing Dean's attempt to keep his brother distracted, the Team sat down and started describing what had gone on. There was low level laughter all round, even from Sam, as they cracked various jokes about the events in the forest after the brother's had left.

There was an awkward moment just as Dean finished the last stitch, when Sam asked a question.

"So how many left down there are likely to come after us?"

This was met with silence.

Terry met Dean's gaze, who gave a very slight shake of his head. Sam wouldn't dream of hurting another human being unless he had too, but Dean understood that these men were highly trained killers and so lived by a slightly different set of rules to your average run-of-the-mill hunters. _With the exception of Gordon of course, he thought_, which briefly led him onto wondering what had happened to the psychotic sonofabitch.

Terry decided to be honest without going into detail.

"None left Sam. With the exception of any reinforcements that Sadler may send in, we're home free. And any he does send in won't get here in time." He didn't add _assuming he hasn't tracked Mike and set a trap for us._ He fervently hoped that wasn't the case, but it was always a possibility.

Contrary to Dean's opinion of him, Sam wasn't quite so innocent. He knew exactly what Terry meant and refused to pass judgment. This wasn't his sandbox after all, and these guys had done their level best to keep him and his brother alive. Terry's team and others like them kept people safe by other methods, and Sam, though not exactly agreeing with it, most certainly understood. Even losing the Doc hadn't fazed them, though Sam guessed quite correctly that they felt her loss deeply.

But, as Dean had once pointed out to him, it was tough gig.

There would _always_ be losses, on both sides.

He just wished the Doc's demise hadn't been because of him. That was another guilty burden to add to a whole host of others that he already carried, but he took comfort in the knowledge that these men hadn't pinned any blame on him.

They weren't saints. But tonight they'd all come close enough.

Dean finished re-dressing Sam's leg, then with a show of tenderness that was starting to become a habit of late, he place his hand gently to the side of his little brother's face, using his thumb to wipe away a flake of dirt.

"Ok Sammy?" He asked, concern radiating off him.

Sam looked into his older brother's green-eyed gaze and nodded slowly, a small smile on his face. It once again slammed home that Dean had been truly shaken by the night's events.

The SAS operatives, though a little uncomfortable with the blatant show of brotherly affection, understood and said nothing.

Sam, with Dean's help, slowly got to his feet. He looked at his team mates and raised both eyebrows. "Shall we?"

The Sarge smiled a little, his admiration for these two men growing all the time.

"Walk this way."

Predictably, Skunk couldn't resist the follow up to that comment, "If I could walk that way I wouldn't need the Vaseline." Earning him a few groans.

Bastard sniggered. "you dirty bugger."

"You can fuckin' talk mate after what I've seen you do with a tub of the stuff." Came the reply.

"What's the matter Skunk? Feeling a bit chafed around the knackers are we?"

"Shut the fuck up, you cock…"

And so the Team continued onwards, with the Winchester brothers chuckling to themselves as Skunk and Bastard kept up their own brand of friendly bickering.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

I couldn't resist using the Bitch/Jerk routine again as it always makes me chuckle. As for Skunk and Bastard, well, make up your own minds about those two crazy sods.

I look forward to reading your reviews.

Many thanks as always.

ST.xxx.


	13. Chapter 13

**A Debt Paid Part 13**

In the midst of all the chaos, which by now was starting to die down, the gloom of the gully where the Doc lay had suffered little disturbance. Apart from the odd frightened squirrel diving for cover from the horrendous noise outside, everything was still.

That was, until the Doc woke up from a state of catalepsy with a loud gasp, and started coughing. She shook her head, feeling dizzy for a moment as the effects of the protective self-induced coma wore off.

Ah. She glanced around her. A little too soon. Still, can't be helped. She got to her feet and climbed a little stiffly up to the top of the ditch, and once again stared around her in amazement.

"Well, well, well. The boys have been busy, I see." She muttered to herself. The forest was almost transformed in this particular section. The animal rights activists and environmental fanatics were going to have a series of fits over this.

Now, where is he? Ah yes. The Doc made her way quietly through the trees, knife drawn from her boot. She made a left, recognised the clearing and realised she was on the right track.

He couldn't be far from here. She was pretty certain he'd be dead when she found him, or at least close. But the Doc was the cautious type. She wanted as few complications as possible. Sam Winchester had to survive.

There he is, the Doc breathed. Gordon was still tied to the tree but there was no sign of life, the toxin having burrowed its way into his system hours ago. The Doc stared hard at the man, her gaze gleaming in the darkness from the after effects of the spell.

Silently, she sliced through his throat and melted away into the darkness.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Although common sense should have dictated that going down the hill should have proved faster than going up it, the younger Winchester was a having a terrible time of it.

Common sense, it seemed, was refusing to play ball. The hill was far steeper on the downward trek than it had going up forcing the Team to slow right down, and Sam was in a lot of pain from the jarring action of stepping on loose rocks. Not that he was crying out every few seconds, but the hitch to his breath and the tension in his body was a dead giveaway.

As usual Dean spotted it, but said nothing for a while, not wanting to draw attention to it for Sam's sake. He carried on taking the bulk of Sam's weight down the hillside without complaint, but knew they were going to have to rest soon. He caught Terry's eye over the top of Sam's bent head, who nodded.

Terry had been worried on seeing Sam's pinched pale face. He nudged Clink.

"The lad isn't gonna last much longer without a decent rest and some food inside him," he whispered. The Corporal nodded, and as soon as Terry called a halt, Clink slipped away.

"Let's stop here, catch a couple of hours shut-eye. Then we'll head off before dawn."

Sam looked like he wanted to protest but when Dean glared at him and sat him down he stayed silent, acknowledging his own exhaustion.

Dean laid his coat out on the rocky surface then gently guided his brother to sit on it and lay back. Sam was so tired that he was asleep before he even got into the sitting position.

Sam didn't feel his brother carefully drawing him into his arms again, holding him close to keep him warm, his head nestled in the crook of Dean's elbow. He didn't feel the light touch on his head as Dean brushed his wayward hair away from his face.

He just settled into a deep sleep and didn't wake up until Dean was shaking him.

"Dude, wake up! Breakfast. I'm starved!"

Sam opened his eyes to see a pair of bright green ones glittering mischievously down at him. He mumbled something incoherent, then sat up too fast. For a moment he swayed as the world seemed to dance and spin in front of him.

Dean grabbed his arm. "You ok?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah, just a little out of it. Need to wake up some more." Sam sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. "What the hells that smell?"

Dean grinned. "That would be coffee."

"No not that. _That _smell Dude!"

"Ah. That would be breakfast." Dean wrinkled his own nose in a way that anyone watching would have definitely seen as a clear brotherly resemblance.

"My god! It smells…." Sam on seeing Bastard look up happily from his task of stirring what ever the hell was in his mess tin over a small fire, changed his wording, "..great." He finished lamely.

Sam was about to get to his feet when Dean pushed him back down. "Don't move. Rest while you can Sammy." Then he helped Sam scoot backwards to lean against a rock.

Sam looked up at his brother, a grateful smile on his still tired features. Patting Sam gently on the shoulder, Dean got up and sauntered over to Bastard.

Sam flexed his wounded leg a little, wincing with the effort. The muscle felt torn to shreds and Sam wondered if, with everything it had suffered, whether or not he'd be left with a permanent limp. He hoped not. The last thing he wanted was to become an even bigger burden to Dean, and a lame brother would certainly fit the definition. Though Sam knew Dean wouldn't see it like that.

He heard low level laughter and glanced over to see Bastard and Dean sharing a joke in the pre-dawn darkness. It was the first time in a while that he'd seen his older brother truly laugh. As though sensing his siblings' gaze Dean glanced over at Sam and smiled; it was tinged with concern but was still a happy smile nonetheless. Sam returned it with a small wave, remembering the conversation they'd had on the way up the hillside, how Dean had confessed to being afraid for Sam's life, how he'd felt on waking up to find Sam gone.

Sam's heart ached for Dean, for what he'd put him through the last few days. Hell, the last few years in fact. If anyone deserved a break, a chance to laugh again, it was Dean.

Sam laid his head back and brought his hands to his throbbing temples. The headache had been slowly building since he woke up, but he put it down to not having eaten since….he couldn't remember when.

The sound of feet scuffling on the rocks attracted his attention. Sam raised his head and smiled as Dean sat down beside him with two mess tins of food.

Dean glanced at him worriedly. "Headache?"

"Yeah."

Lowering his voice Dean asked. "Vision?"

"Not sure, don't think so. Just tired." If Dean sensed he was lying he didn't show it.

Dean knew he was being over protective again, but he'd had so many scares since this all started that he couldn't stop worrying over the slightest thing with regards to his brother. He handed the mess tin over to Sam along with a spoon.

"Eat up Sam. You'll feel better." Then he tucked into his own food, watching Sam carefully. And, so he thought, discreetly.

"Dean, stop staring. I'm ok."

"Yeah sure. I can see that," was Dean's sarcastic reply.

Sam shrugged and took a bite of the food. In spite of the smell, it tasted pretty good and said as much to Dean.

"Yeah, food always seems to taste good when it's cooked over an open fire." Dean grimaced for a second, "unless Dad was cooking it."

Sam snorted with laughter. "Got that damn straight. I never met anyone who laminated a saucepan with beans the way Dad could."

"And don't get me started on his scrambled eggs!"

"Or the day he attempted to make you a birthday cake."

"Sam, that wasn't a birthday cake, that was a weapon of mass destruction. I was sick for hours."

"You insisted on eating it!"

"I couldn't let Dad down now could I? You saw his face when he brought it outta the kitchen, it would've been like kicking a cute puppy." Dean smiled fondly. "He was almost begging for approval."

"Which he really got in the form of you yackin' up all night." Sam grinned.

"At least I tried it. Unlike like my baby brother who chickened out with so-called toothache."

"After which you chased me round the apartment threatening me with a piece of string and a slamming door! I had nightmares for weeks dude!"

Dean chuckled. "Ah. Great times."

They settled into a comfortable silence, thinking of old times. It hadn't been all so bad.

Bastard and Clink approached with their own mess tins.

"Mind if we join ya?" At the brother's nods, the soldiers sat down.

"So. You like our ration packs then eh?" Bastard asked, scooping his food up almost as fast as Dean.

"Yeah man. This is great stuff!" Dean managed to say around a spoonful of his own.

"Ah. That would be Clink's extra ingredient. A little extra protein. It'll do ya the world a good."

Clink shrugged modestly and said nothing.

"Yeah? What?" Asked Dean wanting to take notes for future reference, whilst Sam stopped eating and glared at his food suspiciously.

Clink swallowed his bite. "Rabbit. Freshly caught." And Sam choked a little.

Uh oh, thought Dean. Here it comes.

Sam stared at Clink, his eye twitching, "You waited until I was swallowing before saying that didn't you?"

Dean thought it was time to intervene. "Um guys? Sammy here has always had a thing about eating rabbit. He won't touch it." At Sam's furious look, he really tried hard not to laugh. "Ever since he watched Watership Down as a kid… it kinda put him off."

There was a pause.

"Well," answered Bastard, thoughtfully. "You've seen the film, now eat the cast eh?"

Dean roared with laughter whilst Sam was nearly sick.

"What's the matter? Nothing wrong with a bit of Thumper in your diet eh lads?" Clink responded, causing Dean to laugh even harder.

Sam stared into his food. And then dropped the mess tin, clutching his head gasping in agony.

…_..Terry and Skunk were scouting the area. They weren't expecting trouble, but it always paid to be cautious. Skunk turned to Terry, grinning._

"'_ere ya go sarge." He offered Terry a smoke._

"_You're a fucking life saver mate." Skunk lit the cigarette for him and leaned against a tree. They both knew it wasn't a good idea, but it had been a long day._

_Terry blew out a plume of smoke with an air of ecstasy. That felt good._

_Just as they both turned to leave, Skunk lifted his head and sniffed the air. He knew that scent……._

_Skunk heard the muffled shot just before he heard Terry gasped. He whirled round in time to see his sergeant fall, just before another shot was fired._

_Skunk hit the ground next to Sergeant Morgan. Both of them had small holes between their eyes, but the rapidly growing pools of blood under them suggested much larger exit wounds._

_A shadow moved over to the fallen men, pulled out a knife and with the slow precision that would make a consultant surgeon weep with envy, slit their throats. _

_Just to be sure._

_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_

_Well. Tell me what ya fink lads and lasses?_

_Kind regards,_

_ST.xxx._


	14. Chapter 14

**A Debt Paid Part 14**

Sam cried out, his eyes scrunched shut in pain. His face was ashen as he gasped for breath.

"Sam!" Dean dropped his own mess tin and was immediately at his brother's side, grasping his arms. "Just breathe, Ok? Take it easy. What dya see Sammy? Tell me."

Sam's eyes held that terrified far away look that Dean had learnt to associate with the more vivid and violent visions.

After a few thwarted attempts, Sam finally managed to get out "T-Terry. Skunk!"

Bastard and Clink, already concerned about Sam, were really on edge now. Clink lowered himself down by Sam. "What about 'em Sam? They in trouble?" he asked in low clipped tones.

Sam nodded, unable to speak. He opened his eyes briefly when he saw the muzzle flash, then shut them again when the pain proved too much. "No!" He gasped out.

The faces of Terry and Skunk swam in front of his eyes. Sam knew they were in the shit and wanted to help them. But there was….something else…..

"D-Dean…" he felt as though his head was about to explode. In his vision, he saw the shadow with a knife….there was so much blood…..at that point Sam felt his stomach churn and he leaned over and threw up.

After the first wave of vomiting Sam blinked owlishly. "Someone's gonna m-murder them." He tried to struggle to his feet but fell back, still clutching his head. Then he whispered something that didn't make any sense.

"Doc….." he seemed to be nodding. "s'ok. Gonna stop it." He leaned over again, wretching violently.

"Wherever they are, you'd better find them." Dean told the other men. He held his brother steady whilst he emptied his stomach some more. "Take it easy Sam."

The Corporal and Bastard were already half-way down the hill when Clink turned back. "Be on ya guard." He whispered before the two of them vanished.

Dean felt his brother go lax against him and knew he'd passed out. Gently, he laid him down on his side just in case he was sick again, then pulled his coat around Sam's still form.

In truth, Dean was scared now. Most of Sam's visions had not worked out well; the victims usually, by some cruel twist, getting fucked before he or Sam could do anything about it. He hated to think what it was going to do to Sam if this turned out the same way, but also his own sense of loss was going to be a major factor here now.

He'd grown attached to these guys, and was starting to see why his father had been the way he was. The teamwork, the camaraderie and friendship in the military was addictive. Being with a group of people that Dean could entrust his life to was one thing, but people he could entrust with his brother's life? With the exception of Bobby, that was unheard of.

These guys...blokes...he amended himself …had shown him a small piece of the life his dad must have once led. And as much as he appreciated the experience, when this was over, he and Sam were still going to have to say goodbye. These men could only protect them so far. Dean was pretty sure they understood that already. But would he?

It had been a long time since he'd trusted anybody other than Sam.

He hated to admit it, but he was really going to miss them and all they stood for, and if Sam were awake right now Dean was pretty sure he'd say the same thing.

Provided Watership Down wasn't mentioned.

Pulling out the Glock he thumbed off the safety and crouched protectively on one knee.

No one was getting to his little brother without going through Dean Winchester first.

He felt no guilt at staying behind instead of helping the Corporal find Terry. As much as he admired and respected the Team, and was more than thankful for what the men had done for him and his brother, he knew his place.

It was, had always been, right beside Sam.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The Doc paused at the edge of the forest and scanned the lake. There didn't seem to be any movement apart from the occasional stubborn flicker of fire left over from the earlier explosions. Following the tree line as closely as she could she headed for the path running parallel to the river.

By the time she got there she had lost count of how many corpses had been lying around. Setting a pace the Winchester's would have been impressed with, considering she was running up hill, the Doc sprinted along the river towards the bridge.

A couple of hours later the Doc had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that said something was about to go extremely star-fruit shaped.

And she was rapidly developing a headache.

She clutched at her head suddenly and stumbled to her knees; her mind was filled with pain and blood, feelings of evil intent, and her cousin's face as he lay dead on the forest floor. Skunk lay next to him, his equally dead gaze staring upwards. A knife was drawn and used to slice open the dead men's throats. And something told her that these _pictures_ in her head were real.

Oh God Terry!

She fell to her knees gasping for breath, her grief over-powering.

_He can't be dead!_

The images refused to fade, and she realised someone else was there. Not in the vision itself but as though she was sharing the vision with that person.

_Sam Winchester._

_Doc…s'ok. Gonna stop it._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Clink and Bastard had arrived at the spot they'd last seen the Sarge and Skunk. Checking the immediate area, Bastard picked up a trail and Clink motioned for him to carry on.

The two of them worked their way soundlessly through the rocks and downwards until they reached another tree line. The start of the next section of forest.

Clink's mind was ticking over, anticipating which direction Terry and Skunk would have gone. He advanced with Bastard.

After a while he heard voices and recognised them. The Corporal heaved a sigh of relief and signaled to Bastard. The two of the moved forward, about to make their presence known when Clink raised a hand. They both stopped.

Something aint right 'ere, thought Clink. He shared a look with Bastard, who nodded. He felt it too.

Anybody watching them would have seen Clink and Bastard exchange some rather strange hand signals in the growing dawn light.

Clink circled one way, whilst Bastard went the other. Keeping their rifles raised they circled the low voices of Skunk and Terry.

"'_ere ya go sarge." _That was Skunk.

"_You're a fucking life saver mate." _Clink recognised the Sarge's voice. A waft of cigarette smoke came his way. That was when he caught a familiar scent and his eyes widened. "Terry, Skunk, look alive!" He roared.

The Sarge and Skunk instinctively dropped into defence mode, smokes forgotten, as short bursts of gunfire erupted in the trees. There came the sound of rapidly retreating feet as someone headed away from the four men.

Bastard made to follow but Terry signaled for him to stay still.

"What you two doing here? You should be guarding the Winchesters." Terry murmured softly, not taking his eyes off the dense forest before them. All the men were studying their surroundings for any further movement or sign of an unwanted presence.

"Young Sam had a vision about you two." Replied Clink.

"Yeah? What happened?" Asked Skunk, curiously.

"He didn't say; the poor lad was rather distracted by the metaphorical road drill that was trying to bore a hole in his head, but I gather from the excessive vomiting that it wasn't pleasant." Clink had a way with words. "The upshot of it was that you two were about to get shafted."

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Hope that's cleared some things up and added to a lot of others...

Please keep up the reviews. They are most appreciated and it gives me an idea of what you people like in a story.

(grins) not that you'll get much of a say in it. Please have a look at my latest short story "Lambs to the Slaughter". Would love to know what you think.

cua.

Regards,

ST.xxx.


	15. Chapter 15

**A Debt Paid Part 15**

This was his home in Loire Valley, France, and he had personally made sure it was impregnable.

Francoise De Carteret sat at his security computer running all the diagnostics he could think of, but he was getting nowhere. The computer had frozen on him about an hour ago whilst trying to maintain surveillance on the grounds of the chateau.

That was inconvenient. There was information he needed to get to James.

The glitch on the screen no longer looked like a mere glitch, and he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that time was running out. He hadn't heard from his colleagues in quite some time, and now he was nervous. He'd tried to contact James Morgan but all lines were out.

"Merde!"

Grabbing his shotgun loaded with rock salt and checking the H&K at his holster, he decided to perform a routine check of the perimeter.

It was to be the last he ever made.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The Doc, crouched down on one knee, stared unseeingly at the river before looking back up at the darkened world around her. She'd heard about Sam Winchester and his visions; who in the hunting community hadn't?

She was pretty certain what had happened here.

Sam had just experienced a vision, and the Doc had witnessed it.

It's a pity satellite TV isn't so bloody easy to share, she thought to herself. It would save a fortune in household bills.

It must be the cleansing ritual. It's linked us somehow.

The Doc had heard of this happening between people with supernatural tendencies, but not usually because of a spell.

But then the Doc's spells weren't exactly traditional. She experimented, coming up with new incantations, binding spells, healing remedies, even – in extreme cases – resurrection rituals. Some of these were so powerful that the Doc had them locked away, or in some cases destroyed outright. The only reason some of them still existed was that she felt one day they might be useful. A little known fact was that most of the incantations used by the Winchester's in the past had come about from the Doc's family in some way.

Not from Terry's side. There was nothing supernatural about Terry Morgan, she smiled to herself. Except perhaps his stubborn determination, and that Captain Sadler had failed in every single one of the ninety eight attempts on Terry's life in the last six months. Mind you, it helped that his cousin also happened to know a little about protection spells.

The Doc's extra-curricular activities weren't known by many, and the products of her experiments often seemed pretty mundane. They weren't magic tricks, with flashes of light and disappearing bunny rabbits, and they certainly didn't involve sawing up skinny birds just for a laugh. And as for that Harry Potter swish and flick crap, forget it; entertaining it may be. Real magic and the harnessing of the powers of nature it most certainly was not.

The ritual had she performed on Sam tonight, however, was different. It did have flashes, though not for show. It was one of the more powerful and frightening spells that the Doc had ever created, and as such rarely practiced it. It was too dangerous.

But tonight it had been necessary.

The fall-out from the spell must have lingered for longer than usual with the subject being Sam Winchester and now she was sharing his visions.

If the pain I experienced was even half of his then it's little wonder the poor sod's getting fed up with it, she thought to herself.

As unnerving as it was to acknowledge, she also found this piece of news oddly comforting. For reasons the Doc was unable to fathom, she trusted Sam's words to her in the vision. Somehow she new that Terry would be ok.

She grimaced as another vision hit, and once again Sam was there.

One after another, the visions became more painful and devastating.

_This shouldn't be happening!_

The Doc's nostrils flared as she finally got back to her feet.

Hunters were dying.

Standing still as a statue, the Doc's eyes took on that strange canine-like glow very briefly, and with a small nod she turned back to the path.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Kelly Morgan had been alerted by the silence. Ordinarily she would have maintained there was no such thing as too quiet. But tonight she was starting to revise that theory, her hunters' instincts kicking in.

Having just arrived back home after the longest, and possibly the most boring evening in her entire career fighting off the attentions of the Minister of Defense, she slipped out of her dinner gown, pulled on her jeans and tee-shirt and grabbed the Beretta off the nightstand. Walking bare foot into the kitchen of her London flat, Kelly came to a standstill and waited. Hearing nothing she crossed the room to the phone standing next to the microwave and, flicking her long hair over her shoulder, she started to pick up the handset, but then stopped feeling uneasy, and listened.

Nothing.

Until a window shattered.

The trajectory of the bullet took out her windpipe, leaving her reeling in shock and staining the tiled wall behind her in a dark crimson.

She'd spent some considerable time tiling that wall in her favourite colour of midnight blue.

The phone was already ringing before she hit the floor.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Bugger me," Skunk stared at Bastard and Clink in awe. "Really?"

Clink nodded. "Yeah. And given the rather shit time of it he's had so far, Sam aint too well at the moment."

"Dean'll pull him through; that blokes gotta solid set a' balls on 'im," piped up Bastard. "They both 'ave"

Terry nodded absentmindedly. He'd been wondering about the assassin and something was bugging him. He turned to rest of the team.

"Did anything strike you as a bit odd about what just happened?"

The lads looked at each other.

"Aside from the fact you nearly had your brains blown out?" Asked Clink, casually. "Yes I did as a matter of fact." At Terry's raised eyebrows, the Corporal continued. "A well trained soldier knows better than to wear any form of scent on active duty, and that includes deodorants and aftershave."

The Sarge smiled grimly. "Which leads me to believe our new mystery friend is either an amateur, or he wasn't expecting to trek out tonight. He was caught on the hop."

They all nodded. The scent had been aftershave.

Definitely a he.

Or a cross-dresser, thought Bastard, his mind functioning the way it always did.

Skunk checked his rifle once more. "I know which theory I'm going for."

The Team moved out again.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean carried on watching the surroundings, his feelings of unease steadily growing. Occassionally he checked on Sam, making sure he was breathing ok. His brother had stirred and muttered loudly from time to time but he wouldn't rouse.

Dean was getting worried he might not wake up.

Sighing, he sat down. Things were spiralling out of control and Dean felt helpless to stop it. For the first time in his life he acknowledged his fears.

May be this time there was no going back, no stopping what was coming. And he wondered how either of them would cope with the fall-out.

Dean wished like hell his father were here to tell him what to do.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

David was getting concerned about his younger sister when she didn't pick up the phone.

"Come on Kelly! Answer for fuck sake!"

The answer machine kicked in. "I'm unable to come to the phone right now. Please leave your message…."

He slammed the receiver back down. Drumming his fingers on the study desk at his Stowmarket cottage, he tried to think. Where was Terry?

Last he'd heard his older brother was in Canada, going after the Winchesters. David knew what that really meant. All the European hunters were duty bound to assist their American counterparts in order to fight in the war that lay ahead, and the Winchesters were going to be major players in said war.

David was worried that most of the hunters he was usually in direct contact with had just disappeared.

Decision made he swiped his car keys from the desk, made his way outside and, sliding in behind the wheel of his prized Audi R8, he inserted the key in the ignition.

His last thoughts before starting the engine were about his brother and sister.

The explosion could be heard as far away as Bury St Edmunds.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Captain Sadler swore to himself. Things weren't going quite as well as he'd hoped.

But at least intel was. That makes a bloody change! He thought.

So Gordon was dead. By his own rifle it seemed, although the extra wide grin adorning his throat suggested someone was being extra cautious.

The Captain was particularly annoyed with himself at the moment. On watching his attack on the Winchesters fail spectacularly, and realizing that Gordon was no longer in the equation, Sadler had decided to take matters into his own hands before things got, well….out of hand.

He had managed to get the drop on Morgan but was rudely interrupted before he could take him out permanently. He had listened in on some of the conversation between the team shortly afterwards, before slipping away into the night.

So the Winchester boy was having visions again.

As if it wasn't bad enough that the Doc was on the loose out there somewhere.

Captain Sadler feared very little in life, his confidence in his own talents knowing no bounds. But he did fear Morgan and his damn cousin.

The bloody woman was a menace!

For the life of him he couldn't figure her out.

And now he was starting to fear the Winchesters. They must be good to have survived this long, he thought.

Picking up his kit, Sadler prepared to head out to Morgan's emergency RV point. That was the one piece of info that hadn't been difficult to come by, what with the special radar equipment he'd been using.

One way or another, Morgan, his cousin, and the Winchesters would be dead before the day ended.

In the mean time a number of other executions were being carried out like clock work.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam woke up with a start and glanced around him.

Looking at his watch, he was amazed at how long he'd been out. The sun was pale in the wintry sky and heavy snow clouds loomed on the horizon.

God I feel like shit! He thought to himself. Then he remembered the vision and he struggled to his feet.

But it hadn't just been one vision. People were dying and it was making him mad as hell.

A strong hand clamped round his arm causing him to whirl around going into immediate defense. He just about stopped his fist from smashing into his brother's face.

"Dude you ok?" Dean asked, worriedly.

Sam stood there breathing heavily and blinking at his older brother. "Yeah I'm fine." He said stiffly.

But he wasn't, Dean could tell. Sam was clearly confused and still in pain but that obviously wasn't the main problem now.

Sam was pale and angry. "Where'd they go?"

Dean sighed. "They went after Terry and Skunk when you had that vision. Now sit down and rest would ya? We still gotta ways to go before the RV."

Sam stared at the ground for a second before looking his brother straight in the eye. Dean didn't like the look on Sam's face. "Sam? Whatya thinkin'?" he demanded.

Rubbing a hand over his face, and feeling wearier than he had in a long time, Sam glanced back a Dean. He hesitated, knowing how this was going to sound, but then he spoke. "Dean, I think the Doc is still alive." He shifted on his feet nervously awaiting Dean's reaction.

Dean stared at him, then to Sam's relief he nodded. "Ok Sammy. Tell me."

Sitting back down, Sam starting talking.

"In that vision? I saw the Doc. Well..." he hesitated again. Dean said nothing, just listened. "When I say I saw her, that's not entirely true. I felt her there. Like she was watching or something." Sam shook his head. "She's still alive man, I just know it. And she's in danger." He blinked. "A lot of people are."

Dean was understandably confused now, but he sought to reassure his brother. "If you're right…" and seeing Sam's expression at that, he held out his hands in truce, "…and I'm not sayin' you aint, but if you are, I think the Doc is more than capable of taking care of herself dude."

Sam dipped his head a little and nodded. "Yeah. You're right. But how come she's in my visions Dean? Like she's sharing them?"

Feeling a little helpless at that, Dean shook his head. "Good question, but it may have something to do with that mojo she laid on ya. I think there's a lot more to the Doc than meets the eye."

"No kidding!"

Dean chuckled. "She aint the first we've met in that respect."

Taking a deep breath, Sam continued. "Dean. There were others…"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Bastard did his usual on them.

"'Ello my darlin's!" the operative announced in his best Charlie Drake voice as he appeared at Dean's shoulder. "Remember us eh?"

Before either of the boys could answer the rest of the Team showed up grinning widely.

Sam got to his feet again. "You guys ok? I thought…"

Terry moved over to Sam and briefly placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam understood the gesture as the Sarge's way of thanking him.

He turned to face his team. "The stakes have officially been raised. Time we got to that RV point eh?"

"Terry…" Sam attempted.

The Sarge gave him a look "we'll talk later Sam."

When Sam was about to press the issue, Dean stopped him. He gave his a little brother a slight shake of the head. _Terry knows something. Now is not the time._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Game on.

James Morgan sat in his study and pondered over the grimoire in front of him. Things were getting…complicated. He didn't know where his eldest son was at this point nor his niece.

He'd been running surveillance on all the hunters under his command and so far the picture wasn't looking pretty. Too many were losing contact. Six so far by his count.

And he knew why.

He could feel how bad things were getting and if John Winchester's sons had been in danger before then things were seriously buggered now.

James used his computer to send a brief message to the one person that might be able to help.

"Bobby,

get to the sons ASAP. Don't wait. Hunter's moon.

JM."

Getting to his feet, James climbed up the steps to his library in search of some kind of inspiration for the current predicament. He knew Terry wouldn't be in a position to contact him, but James needed to know what was going on.

He didn't notice the rope twitching outside the window as his sat down with his back to it.

That would prove to be a big and above all final mistake.

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Sorry it took a while, work's been busy.

Thanks for your encouraging reviews and I hope you've all been enjoying this.

I'm aware that there hasn't been a lot of direct Winchester input this chapter but I'm building up to a dramatic and rather angry climax for the ending. Things will change.

And for those of you waiting for the next chapter of Witch Finder, once I've finished this story I'll get right on it.

cua.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	16. Chapter 16

**A Debt Paid Part 15**

Sitting in the small internet café, Bobby checked his messages hoping for some word from Sam and Dean; they'd been off the radar so to speak for too long and that meant trouble.

Ordinarily he didn't trust computers; he preferred books. Books were solid, real, whereas computers were just a royal pain in the ass, especially when they went wrong.

Scratching his head and then replacing his cap he stared at the screen in front of him.

As soon as he clicked the mouse button a message flashed up; its contents were unexpected, but even more surprising was who the message was from.

"James Morgan?" Bobby hadn't heard from the guy in years, in fact he hadn't realised James had his email address. He read the message again.

"Shit."

Grabbing the map he'd been studying earlier, Bobby headed out of the café into the wintry Canadian night.

Hunters moon.

And Bobby felt sure the Winchesters were the prey.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean kept casting side-long glances at his younger brother. Sam had been silent for the last hour as the six of them traipsed the rest of the way down the steep incline. He'd been limping badly the whole time but kept refusing Dean's help.

He needed space right now, Dean got that.

But this was down right stupid.

So when Sam stumbled and barely bit back a grimace, Dean stepped in grabbing his brother's arm and pulling him to a halt.

"Sam, I know you're pissed and scared. I feel that too." Though he spoke in a low voice not wishing to alert the Team, the anger in it was more than obvious. "But you're in pain and you aint doin' yourself any favours by pushing yourself so hard."

Sam stared ahead staying silent before attempting to move on.

Dean yanked on his arm again, his tone harsh. "Sam stop! You nearly drowned, you've been shot, poisoned, suffered those ass-cripling visions time and again, and now you're exhausted." Dean eased his grip on Sam's arm slightly and allowed a small amount of desperation to creep into his voice. "Don't do this to yourself man. Let me help you."

"Please." He added softly when Sam didn't answer right away.

They both stood there for a second whilst Dean waited for his brother's verdict.

Sam turned tired and worried eyes onto his older sibling, studying him. Then he nodded.

Dean silently thanked god his little brother was finally listening to reason and placed a supporting arm around Sam's waist. "Let me take your weight." He murmured. "I gotcha little bro."

Ok, so Sam still wasn't talking but he was allowing Dean to help him with the rest of the journey. Dean had to be content with that for now, but as soon as they got to the RV he was determined to corner Sam. He wasn't used to being shut out not when the stakes were so high and Sam's life still in danger.

One way or another, his little brother was gonna talk to him.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Having driven for some miles along the road Sam and Dean might have taken and finding nothing, he carried on.

Until he found something.

Bobby stepped carefully out of his truck. He found a white van, and Dean's Implala quite easily and that planted a further seed of worry in him. Moving to the edge of the bridge and checking the broken railing, he only just heard the faint movement behind him.

He turned slowly.

"Bob?"

He relaxed a little at the Doc's questioning voice.

"I can't believe you're here again." Bobby felt relieved at hearing her voice.

The Doc smiled warmly for a second, then she grew serious. "Bobby. You know what to do."

But he really didn't and that was the truth. He was a hunter, sure, but that was where it ended. He was a soldier, not a brain. Not like the Doc.

"Where are they?"

"They're in good hands, though I'm not in all honesty sure how long that particular scenario is going to last" she sighed. "Terry will do the best he can but it's mostly up to them now."

The Doc could see the thoughts running through Bobby's brain. It amazed her. Hunters are not stupid; if they are then they don't last long. Bobby was truly scared now. And she didn't blame him one bit.

But he certainly wasn't stupid. And he wasn't scared for himself.

"Get back in the car _now_." She announced sharply. "We have to move fast."

"Now hold on here. I need t'know what's going on!" Bobby was angry now.

The Doc cast her canine-eyes upon Bobby. "In time."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	17. Chapter 17

**A Debt Paid Part 17**

The Doc and Bobby had been traveling for what seemed like a fucking long time. Doc occasionally asked Bobby to stop the car and stepped out into the cold night. She sniffed the air and grimaced.

Bobby knew something of what this girl could do; so he trusted her.

After another few hundred miles, she asked him to stop the car once more.

The Doc had _that_ smile on her face.

"Time for me to bail out." At Bobby's concerned glanced she added "it's ok. I'm used to this.

"Doc what're you doin'?" Bobby stared at her.

She turned and smiled at him. "Take this with you." She handed him a map. "Get there as fast as you can."

"Wait Doc, too many people've died already."

"It's ok…"

"No it's not! We can't lose any more!"

"Bobby? What do you think I'm doing here?"

"I thought…." Bobby sighed in frustration. "I don't know what I thought."

The Doc stared at him for a second, before leaping out of the car. She thumped the hood. "Go on. Piss off."

She added "I got work to do."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The Team carried on with the journey but now they were losing their sense of humour. Sam was suffering and they all knew it, it didn't matter how he tried to hide it. Dean was virtually carrying him now, exhaustion so close to the surface it seemed that no end was in sight.

"Dean…" Sam suddenly collapsed into his brother.

"Sam? Sammy!" Dean lowered him to the ground gently, checking his pulse. It was way too fast for his liking. Sam's head dropped bonelessly to Dean's shoulder. "Sam come on! Wake up!"

Dean dipped his head so he could study his brother's face then touched a hand to Sam's jaw, lifting it up so he could look at him properly. Sam's face was scrunched up with pain.

He groaned and his body jerked….

…_another nameless face, but Sam knew him. _

_Somehow. _

_Just like he'd known the others; his heart ached for what was coming._

_The person in question was standing over some kind of machine. Robotic arms whirled, computers sung out in complaint, and the guy was tapping away at the terminal, staring at some figures on the screen._

_The door to the laboratory burst open and the man dragged his gaze away from the screen._

Sam's eyes flew open. "No…."

_Then he ducked as instinct kicked in._

_Whatever came through the lab door didn't last long as the scientist drew his pistol and fired._

_Without looking back he ran for the exit, ignoring his pager as it bleeped at him insanely. Eventually he grew frustrated and tore the thing from his belt, throwing it to the ground._

_Escaping into the night air, the scientist made for his car._

_And he started driving._

Sam blinked.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The Doc took her hands away from her head, gradually got back to her feet and turned to face the future.

She smiled again.

_Some of us will survive this Sam. Just keep on going._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Chaz drove his Limited Edition Subaru Imprezza at break neck speed.

He could feel time running out as he handled the bends expertly, at the same time refreshing the clip on his pistol.

He was a little like Dean Winchester in that he referred to his car with capital letters.

It was his baby.

Chaz left the hospital laboratory behind, a distant memory he knew he was never going back to.

"Doc what are you up to now you insane bitch?" He muttered.

Chaz just knew the Doc was at the bottom of this particular shit pile; it was always her that triggered these things off.

She'd done that spell again. The one he kept warning her about.

He thought back to the demon that tried to take him out.

How many more hunters had been affected?

Somehow he knew.

_There aren't many of us left._

The Doc answered him. _Get to the Winchesters. They need us._

With that thought in mind, Chaz pressed the accelerator even harder and the car roared as it fish-tailed round the bend.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam smiled as he looked at his brother.

"It's ok…I mean, it's not. But we're going to be ok."

"Sam?"

"Others are coming. They're close. So close."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Terry had been watching the brothers and now knew that it was time to move. It didn't, couldn't matter that Sam was exhausted. They had to go. So he shouted the order.

"Move your arses!"

Everyone, including Sam, was on their feet within seconds. Although he could tell that Sam was suppressing a pained groan, Terry ignored it.

They made their way to the RV.

They could see the chopper waiting for them.

Salvation at hand.

That was until the gunfire broke out again.

Sam and Dean felt as though they were re-living the night before as the bullets zipped about.

Only this time it was bad.

A sharp cry came from Bastard as he took a round in the chest.

Blood pumped darkly as Bastard took his last final gasps. Then he went still.

"Nooooo!" Skunk ran towards him, but was nearly cut in half by the next volley of rounds. His body twitched on the ground before falling silent.

Sam struggled in his brother's grip and tried like hell to hold back the tears as the grief cascaded through him.

Dean yanked him to the chopper as Terry was shouting.

Clink, seeing what Dean was trying to do, and also seeing where this was going, grabbed each Winchester by the head and forced them to the ground.

Another volley of rounds belted out. And somehow Dean knew these were demons.

A loud explosion took the chopper.

Terry caught one last glance at Mike before he went up in flames.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sadler was a bit unsure now but he did know that the Winchesters were screwed. He smiled.

Things had finally got back on track.

They weren't going anywhere.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	18. Chapter 18

**A Debt Paid Part 18**

Bobby drove like a madman, occasionally glancing at the map on the passenger seat. The Doc had left quite specific directions to the RV point and he wasn't far off. Only a few miles to go.

The map showed the wide expanse of forest but what it didn't show was a hidden back road, more like a dirt track. The Doc had assured Bobby it was there though, and in concentrating on the road ahead, he almost missed the turning. It was _very_ well hidden.

Bobby dipped his headlights as he manoeuvred his truck on to the dirt track and followed it for what seemed like a life time.

He knew he was close when he heard the sound of gunfire in the distance.

The truck sped up.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sadler was feeling a little confused. The attack on the Winchesters and the chopper was not unexpected, but he was pretty sure he hadn't sent out this many troops. He was also fairly sure that all _his_ men had normal eyes, not the blacked out ones like he saw before him.

He made a wise decision; leaving the Winchesters to it he sped away through the trees. Sadler felt certain that Morgan and his companions wouldn't make it out of the forest alive.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Chaz had been waiting for Bobby in the shadows.

He couldn't believe he was here in fact. He'd given up this hunting gig years ago when his wife had fallen pregnant with their first child, but somehow he'd allowed himself to be drawn back in.

May be the Doc was right; this wasn't something you just fell into.

It was a calling.

As soon as he heard the truck he stepped out of the car and went to stand in the middle of the track, his feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped in front of him.

Bobby came barrelling over the hill, then hit the brakes screeching to a stop just inches away from Chaz.

Who was grinning widely.

"Damnit Chaz! I coulda killed you!" Bobby leapt out of the truck and strode over to his old friend.

"Not likely Bobby boy!" the Irishman smirked back.

Bobby grinned. "Don't often see you outside the lab these days. What happened? Get bored didya?"

"I was. Until a brace of demons broke into the lab tonight and tried shoving several magazines 'o bullets up me arse." Chaz chuckled. "I knew the Doc would contact me as soon as things got outta hand." He sobered for a second. "So the Winchesters are in the shite again."

Both men moved as they spoke, climbing into the cab of Bobby's truck. Bobby explained his run in with the Doc and what had happened to the boys.

Chaz let out a breath. "Sounds like Terry's been busy."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

With two men down Terry and Clink had their work cut out for them providing covering fire whilst Dean dragged Sam with him into the trees and started up a steep slope.

"Come on Sammy!" Dean yelled as Sam slumped in his grip. Grabbing Sam's chin he forced his head up. "Wake up! You hearin' me Sam?"

Sam opened his eyes again to see his brother glaring at him. "S-sorry. M'tired"

Dean's gaze softened a little. "I know kiddo, but we both have to stay alert, huh? At least until we get outta this damn place."

Sam nodded as Terry and Clink appeared behind him.

Terry whispered loudly. "Only fire if you have to; save ammo. Bullets won't kill these things And they seem less inclined to use them on us."

He glanced at Sam. _They want him alive._

Clink nodded.

"I've never seen so many demons in one place." Dean checked his weapon and loaded another clip.

"The spell." Sam blinked rapidly, trying to clear his murky head. "When the Doc performed that spell on me, it must've attracted them."

A loud howl echoed around the group as another demon attacked, only this one was armed with a viscous looking knife. It headed straight for Sam.

Dean's eyes widened on seeing the approaching demon and raised his Glock. The bullet didn't kill it but it did slow it down a little; Sam used a fallen tree branch to bludgeon it into unconsciousness.

Several thuds and the snapping of twigs indicated there were more on the way.

Sam looked at the tree branch in distain, which was now a mess of splinters, and threw it to the ground. Where's a devil's trap when you need one?

Terry and Clink were currently using the butts of their rifles to take out a couple more demons, but more were on the approach.

"You gotta be kiddin' me! How're we s'pose to out run them?" Dean glanced back at the way they had come in despair.

"Well, you could use a car!" Shouted a familiar voice above him. Dean stared up the slope in amazement.

"Bobby?" The hunter stood there for a second before clambering down towards Sam and Dean.

"The one and only." Bobby grabbed Sam's free arm and placed it about his shoulders. Sam leaned on him gratefully.

Another figure appeared and bounded gracefully down the slope, and casually took out a demon that was creeping up on Terry.

"Hey Morgan! You want to be watching yer back a bit more ya loimey get!" Chaz called out cheerfully.

Terry turned upon hearing Irishman. "Shove it up yer arse ya thick Irish mick." But he was grinning as he said it. They both fired on another few demons.

"Come on move! We don't got much time!" Bobby yelled and they all started up the slope, the demons advancing after them. Though Chaz did note that they all seemed to be gunning for Sam.

It was eerie the way they watched the younger Winchester, their eyes flickering and following his every move.

So he must be the one then, thought Chaz. The Doc's latest patient. He's the attraction.

He studied Sam briefly as they fought their way uphill; the boy looked shell-shocked and beyond tired.

Mind you, his brother wasn't exactly the picture of health either. They both looked about ready to drop.

Sam was limping painfully and Chaz couldn't help but notice the dried blood stains on Sam's jeans. He winced in sympathy and thought of the Doc again.

_Let's just hope he isn't in need of her services again before the day's out_._ She's gonna be a might busy._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Head to the top of that ridge…" Bobby started yelling then stopped and stared. Terry and Clink saw the look on the older hunter's face and swung round.

"Shit!"

Dean, Sam and Chaz hesitantly followed their gazes. "Major fucking shit!"

"What the f…" Dean began.

"Jesus! Where are they all coming from?" Sam yelled.

"I don't know!" Bobby responsed.

The entire forest was crawling with demons, and every single one of them had the same purpose.

Seize Sam Winchester.

Dean and Bobby put on a burst of speed, dragging Sam up the incline. Terry, Clink and Chaz stumbled on behind keeping themselves between the demons and Sam. They were effectively Sam's last line of defence.

At the top of the ridge Bobby ran to the truck and started the engine, whilst Dean put Sam in the cab.

"Dean wait!"

Dean turned back to his little brother.

"What is it Sam?"

Sam tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. "We can't just leave a forest full of demons. We have to stop them."

"Sam pipe down. We're getting outta here now!" Dean went back to the top of the ridge and helped Terry, Clink and Chaz fight off another few demons.

These demons weren't as strong as the usual variety and they didn't seem to be displaying the telekinetic skills that Dean had observed in the past. He felt relieved at that; he didn't relish the idea of being thrown around like a rag doll.

"Sam no! Get back in the truck."

Dean heard Bobby shouting and glanced back. His brother was limping towards the ridge, pain etched deeply on every part of his face.

"Sam! Do as he says for Christ sake!" Dean yelled.

Sam ignored him. He stopped at the edge and glared down. The forest, which had been filled with thuds, howls and screeches, suddenly went quiet. Each and every demon stared up at Sam, black eyes gleaming with hunger. Sam stared back fearfully.

Then Sam was saying something. Dean strained his ears to hear, but pretty soon didn't have to as Sam's voice grew louder.

_The Rituale Romanum? Way to go Sammy!_

Sam's voice filled the forest. The demons started to shriek loudly as they fought the exorcism.

Dean raised his eyebrows. Sam knows this shit by heart?

Bobby, Terry, Clink and Chaz stared helplessly down the slope.

As the ritual progressed the demons were wailing, their bodies jerking violently, until, as one, they all dropped to their knees. The air became thick with demonic black clouds which soon dissipated to reveal a few hundred groaning bodies rolling on the forest floor.

The only living creatures left for the demons to possess being the forest creatures.

And they were still busy getting down and dirty with it.

Dean approached Sam with caution. They stood there side-by-side staring silently into the forest.

After a minute or so Dean turned to Sam, noting the weary expression on his brother's face.

"You memorised the Rituale Romanum? Man, you're such a geek." He shook his head.

Sam glanced across at Dean and shrugged apologetically.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Terry slowly wandered up to the Winchesters.

"That has got to be the biggest fucking exorcism in history." He clapped Sam on the back. "Nice one mate."

Clink nodded in agreement.

Chaz came to stand next to them. "I don't want to worry anyone," his soft Irish voice jolting everyone back to the matter at hand. "But now those soldiers are no longer possessed I should point out something." He started to back away from the edge, pulling the Winchesters with him.

"What?" Dean threw a puzzled but dazed expression at Chaz.

"They're still bloody after us." He pointed down the slope to where they could all see the formerly possessed men gradually coming to their senses. "And one might just observe that they somewhat outnumber us."

The six men hastily piled into Bobby's truck before anything else could happen.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Don't forget to drop me off at me car." Chaz pulled his keys out of his pocket.

Bobby had floored the truck a long the dirt road, and the men were now all bouncing around inside the cab.

Sam sat between his brother and Bobby, the engine noise and the motion of the truck lulling him into a fitful doze.

Dean kept an eye on him. Then he remembered his own car.

"Bobby! My car! I left it on the bridge…"

"Relax. Taken care of," Bobby sighed. "Just, try to make sure the gas tank's full before takin' off down a damned river."

As they drove away, everyone had been introduced and accounts exchanged, so all hunters were now up-to-date.

"Wonder where the Doc is now?" Terry had been relieved to hear his cousin was alive, but he still worried about her. In spite of appearances, she had quite a temper on her and god forbid anyone who got in her way.

Sam was startled out of his dream-like state at the sound of Terry's voice. Dean looked at him. "You ok there little bro?" As a strange look came over Sam's face.

"Yeah…" He blinked as the pain behind his eyes grew. "Ahhh! God! Not again!"

Sam clutched his head, his eyes squeezed shut. "Please! No! I can't take any more of this!" He sounded so weak and tired that Dean worried what this was doing to Sam. This number of powerful visions in one day was just unheard of, and Sam was still suffering from a bullet wound and blood loss.

"Sam?" Dean grabbed Sam's arms and twisted him round. "Listen to me. Concentrate. Breathe through it."

Sam shook his head, unable to obey his brother's command, his breath coming in short loud gasps.

"Sammy come on. Don't give up on me now!"

Dean grew more anxious as Sam started hyperventilating. He pushed Sam's head down between his knees, desperately trying to get his brother to breathe normally.

Bobby stopped the truck and between them they got Sam out and laid him on the dusty ground. His shallow gasping had eased up a little by this point but Sam was only semi-conscious. He couldn't hold his own head up and his eyes stared unseeingly up at the sky.

Dean was talking to him trying to get a response from his little brother, but Sam was in another world.

_Sam stared at the Doc as she raised her pistol. The strange man in front of her smirked. Walking towards him, the Doc smiled coldly and the guy suddenly flew backwards, pinned to the wall above the filing cabinets._

_Sam knew her intentions even before she squeezed the trigger. He tried to stop her but couldn't move, he yelled to her to stop but he couldn't speak._

_She turned to him, her canine-eyes glowing. A Killer in its truest form._

_Terry hasn't told you everything….._

_She smiled again._

_A loud explosion blew the scene to pieces, and flames spread rapidly…._

Sam sat up straight, shocking the hell out of his brother so that Dean fell backwards.

"Terry," growled Sam. He got to his feet and glared at the Englishman. "That was the Doc calling. She left a message. She claims you have something to tell us?"

Dean smirked at his brothers' sarcasm.

Terry nodded slowly. "When I questioned Gordon, he told me that he wasn't the only one after Sam. My CO gave them the resources to track you down." He shrugged. "Sadler's determined to get hold of you."

Sam stared at Terry. "The Doc's after Sadler. She's gonna kill him!"

"Saves me doin' the bastard in." Terry gave the younger man a grim smile. "It's what we do Sam."

"But to just kill the guy!" Sam was livid.

"If the roles were reversed Sadler wouldn't hesitate." Terry explained calmly. "And he won't."

Sam stood there, his eyes fixed on Terry. Eventually he hung his head and nodded.

Dean put out a hand and squeezed his brother's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get back in the truck."

"Wait." Terry strode towards the brothers. Chaz and Clink looked on with interest. "Gordon gave me a list of names." He pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to Sam. "Recognise any of those blokes?"

Sam read the names out. "Daniel Mccarthy, Greg Williams, Stewart Harper…." He looked up at Dean. "These are all hunters, people our Dad once knew."

Terry nodded. "They're also the people Sadler sent after you."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean shook his head in dismay. "They wouldn't…..I mean, they were our Dads' friends."

"And Gordon must've really sold them a story for them to turn on us like that." Sam spoke in a small voice.

"He didn't have to. Sadler put quite a price on your head mate. That was all it took." Terry looked at Sam worriedly. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry Sam. No one guessed just how far down the betrayal went. I didn't have a clue 'til I spoke to Gordon. It wasn't something I was going to keep from you; I was going to tell you once things had calmed down a bit. We all had enough to deal with."

Sam stood very still form moment.

"We have to get to the Doc. Fast." Sam turned to Dean. "In the vision, the Doc was in a room with Sadler. There were filing cabinets and computer terminals everywhere. Then there was an explosion. I don't know what happened after that, but I do know that something, some information in those cabinets is to do with us."

"I know where she is," announced Clink. "Sadler keeps all his paperwork in a warehouse office, just outside the bunker; he does most of his research there." He glanced at the Sergeant. "That's near where we had the briefing that you were supposed to show up to." Terry shot him a look. Clink grinned.

All six of them climbed back into Bobby's truck and continued on their journey. After a few minutes Bobby pulled up and Chaz jumped out, running over to his car.

The engine roared to life and Dean looked out the wind-shield as the Impreza swept by. "Nice," he muttered, a wistful smile on his face. Sam rolled his eyes.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


	19. Chapter 19

**A Debt Paid Part 19**

**The Final Chapter.**

Leaving the Jeep just outside the entrance to the building, Sadler headed straight for his basement office and locked himself in. It was a metal blast door, reinforced with steel.

No one was coming through it in a hurry.

Sitting at a computer terminal in the darkened room, he checked his emails.

There was one marked urgent.

On reading it his eyes widened angrily.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Stewart Harper watched the vehicles speeding away and swore.

A mass exorcism. Who would've thought it?

He was angry that he hadn't been able to get a clean shot.

The Winchesters were still alive and now a few new faces had appeared on the scene to help them.

Stewart was a relatively young hunter, not much older than Dean.

He'd been approached by Gordon Walker a week ago, who made him a very generous offer. It hadn't come directly from Gordon himself, Stewart knew, but it had come from someone with influence. So Stewart had been scouting round the area, watching from a distance.

Protection, immunity from prosecution, not to mention a nice golden handshake for early retirement, in exchange for the Winchesters.

He wasn't going to miss another opportunity, he thought to himself as he drove off.

Back in his motel room he turned to his laptop and sent an encrypted email to the address Gordon had given him.

"Hunters still in circulation. Have outside assistance.

The prey has left the forest.

Awaiting orders."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sadler drummed his fingers on the desk.

The Captain had no idea how Sam Winchester had survived the XT3 drug. The younger of the two brothers had been hit in the leg, that much Sadler knew. Sergeant Garwood, having seen the wounded Winchester fighting it out with the rest of Morgan's team during battle, had been bang on the money as usual.

His reply was simple.

"Hunter's moon.

Stand down."

The Captain opened a desk drawer and pulled out an H&K. He thumbed off the safety and cocked it with a smooth click.

It paid to be cautious.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Stewart stared angrily at the reply.

Hunter's moon. Stand down?

The bastard was calling it off?

Slamming his laptop closed, he stood and paced. Gordon was so dead for this!

When Stewart caught up with double-crossing prick he was going to take great delight in slowly garrotting him.

It never occurred to him to wonder if those threats were now empty.

His mind had been made up, however. He was still going after the Winchesters.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

All were quiet during the ride, the hunters lost in their thoughts, until Sam glanced over at Terry and Clink.

"I'm sorry about Bastard and Skunk. They were good men."

This was the first time the dead operatives had been mentioned.

Dean glanced out the window and kept quiet, but he listened for Sergeant Morgan's reply.

Terry cleared his throat. "No. They weren't. They did the job that was in front of them. They just happened to be bloody good at it."

Clink looked Sam square in the eye. "There's nothing we can do for them now, but we can make sure the bastard responsible for all this pays dearly." He spoke slowly and not unkindly to the young hunter.

Sam nodded and ducked his head.

Dean gave his arm a quick squeeze.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The Doc circled the warehouse and watched for movement.

She'd arrived a few minutes ago after having stopped off for a change of clothes; her DPMs were soaked through from her night in the gulley. The car she'd stolen was hidden under some snow-ladened coniferous trees.

It had been a long drive.

Doc shivered slightly and pulled the black leather knee-length coat around her. It was a couple of sizes too big, but that didn't worry her since it meant she could wear a few more layers under her black polo-neck to ward off the cold.

Yawning lazily she scanned the area, then advanced.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean woke up and looked around him. Blinking wearily he stared at the driver. At some point during the journey Clink had taken over the wheel in order to give Bobby a break.

It was pretty dark out so they must have been traveling for quite some time. The landscape was now covered in blankets of white snow and the sky threatened more of the same.

Ahead of the truck, the Impreza slowed and eventually stopped. Chaz jumped out and waited for the truck to do the same, before strolling over to the driver's window.

"The warehouse is just up ahead. Thought it best to go on foot," he whispered lightly. "We don't wanta alert the bastard now do we."

Dean fully agreed with that plan. He nudged his brother and grinned.

"Wake up sleeping beauty, time to visit the wicked witch."

Sam shot up in his seat, head swiveling around as if searching for something. When he finally got his bearings he frowned at Dean. "Warehouse?"

Dean nodded. "Just ahead of us."

Bobby, Sam, Dean, Clink and Terry joined Chaz at front of the truck, checking their weapons and stretching tired muscles. They stood in a line facing the road leading, through a bank of trees, to the warehouse.

The men fell silent for a moment, remembering why they were here and that it, in all probability, meant an end to this particular nightmare.

They all snorted.

As_ if!_

Splitting into two groups of three, each taking to the shadows on either side of the road, the hunters moved off silently.

Clink was in the lead on one side of the road because he knew the layout and where Sadler's office was. Dean took the lead on the other side, followed on by Sam and Bobby.

Dean squinted down at the road, eyes following the muddy tire tracks. It had stopped snowing by the time they'd arrived.

"Sam?" He whispered. "You see that?"

Sam followed his gaze and nodded in agreement. "Someone's passed this way recently."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Hendrikson was not amused when he received the email from the Captain.

Damnit!

Surely he deserved a break here!

Not for the first time he considered giving up his pursuit of the Winchester brothers, but as always his stubborn streak won over.

There was no way he could venture out into the Canadian wilds right now, not when a blizzard warning had just been announced over the radio, and in any case he had orders to return to New York tomorrow.

He'd hoped Dean Winchester would be accompanying him.

In a set of reinforced handcuffs.

_Next time __Winchester!_

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The Doc had been over every section of the warehouse, checking for guards but the area was clean.

Her eyes narrowed as she turned them downwards and a feral smile appeared on her face.

Sadler was here. And so was Sam.

_Let the fun and games begin!_

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean discovered the car under some over-hanging pine branches and called Sam over.

"The hood's still warm." Dean had his hand on the bonnet of the car. "Sam? You still with me bro?"

By this point the others had made their way over.

Sam had been staring at the car. "The Doc's here." He stated simply.

Dean didn't ask how he knew. His brother rarely made such statements without good reason. He nodded to the other hunters. "Let's take it easy with this one. If Sadler's here then Doc may be in trouble. Bobby? I need you to stand as look-out, just in case company arrives." The last thing they needed was another fire-fight.

Bobby touched the peak of his base-ball cap and shrank wordlessly back into the shadows.

Clink led the way into the warehouse and straight to a recess in the wall; there was a heavy door that opened on to a stairwell.

Terry and Chaz hung back, keeping an eye out to the rear as Clink, Dean and Sam stepped down into the darkness. As they descended a long corridor came into view dimly lit by emergency lighting, the main power already having been cut off by the approaching snow storm.

Various passages led off the main corridor but Clink was heading for the large, heavy looking door at the end.

Sam raised an eyebrow. The door was made of metal and was clearly heavily armoured; getting through it was going to be nigh on impossible if it was locked.

Which it was, of course.

Clink sighed in frustration. "Sadler must've had this fitted only recently. I remember his office door was made of wood."

Dean's inspection of the huge metal hinges confirmed it. "It's new all right. There's hardly any wear on these."

"Whatever he's got stored in there it must be pretty valuable if he's keeping it so well locked down," Sam mused.

"Yeah." Terry laughed humourlessly, "His own miserable fucking skin."

"And information about us." Dean pointed out.

They all glared at the door as if blaming it for everything that had gone wrong.

"So how the hell…." Dean began and stopped when slow footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway.

Everyone watched as someone appeared from another passageway. The person stopped then swiveled on their heel and continued, footsteps slow and sure until the shadows receded. The person's eyes gleamed in the half light as the steady pace paused.

"If you'll stand aside gentlemen?" Doc smiled. "Allow me."

Terry grabbed at Dean and Sam, pulling them over to one side.

As the Doc walked towards the door, leather coat making a small creaking noise in time to her footsteps, the gleam in her eyes grew intense, her head dipped slightly.

Sam got the distinct impression that time had slowed.

Something incredible was about to happen.

The Doc carried on walking slowly as the door bowed inwards, metal grinding and groaning. It sounded like a wounded animal that had been cross-bred with a car wreck and a torture device.

Dean blinked. _Wow!_

Sam took a loud breath in the sudden brief silence.

With a final loud boom the door exploded inwards, showering the room beyond with viscous looking shrapnel.

An instant later the Doc passed through the mangled door frame, the Winchesters, her cousin, Chaz and Clink following on, all looking rather stunned.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sadler had heard the voices at the door, heard them try the locks. He chuckled to himself as he leaned back in his chair.

Try all you want. You're not coming in.

He was about to find out what the Doc could _really_ do.

The door started bulging and warping under what had to be an extreme amount of pressure, and Sadler instinctively dropped to the floor behind his desk, shielding himself in the knee hole.

The Captain winced as the door burst, and he heard alarming whomping and swirling noises, like an out of control chopper blade, that ended as metal bolts and pieces of hinge thudded into the wall above him. He raised his eyebrows; he'd been standing in exactly that spot only moments ago.

Listening carefully from beneath the desk, he heard people enter the room. Suddenly the desk lifted and hovered above his head. Feeling rather foolish to be found cowering on the floor Sadler stood up, nearly braining himself on the levitating desk in the process. He glared at the group in front of him.

"Morgan? What're you doing here?"

"Funny you should ask that Captain," came the sarcastic reply. "After all, I'm supposed to be toast by now, right?"

Sadler wasn't sure what to say. He realised the game was up and wisely decided against a denial.

"Let me guess, you used your delightful interrogation tactics on Gordon Walker."

Terry just sneered.

"No doubt your men helped with your escape? Scum though they may be, they're certainly persistent," the Captain continued, smiling wryly.

Terry bristled at the "scum" remark. "They may have been scum but at least they were loyal to their own kind, _you long in-bred streak of piss!_"

Even Sam found it hard to keep a straight face on hearing _that_ one.

The remark did however serve to wipe the grin off Sadler's face.

"Now you listen to me, you…."

There was a pained sigh from the Doc. "Can we skip the pleasantries please? I really don't have the patience." She was back to using her Christ-I'm-fucking-bored voice again, Dean noted with amusement. He was starting to feel rather fond of this woman.

Sadler glared at her. "And you should know better, _Captain_, than to consort with elements below your station."

No one saw it coming because there was nothing _to_ see, though the brief twitch below the Doc's left eye at the use of her rank might have been a giveaway.

But Captain Sadler was suddenly flying through the air, and landed ungracefully in a tangle of chairs and filing cabinets. The hovering desk was about to join him, but Sadler just managed to get out of the way in time before it pulverised his head.

Sadler reached for the H&K that slid off the broken remains of the desk, rolled and jump to his feet straight into firing stance. He held the weapon out in front of him and aimed at Sam's chest.

Dean, big-brother instincts screaming at him, made to stand in front of Sam.

"I really wouldn't do that. He'll be dead before he hits the ground if you take another step." Sadler advised him in a deadly calm voice. "Along with any body else who moves."

Time to end this, thought the Doc.

It seemed to Sam and Dean, when they discussed it later, that time sped up for _these_ events. They happened one after the other, in quick succession.

Another twitch of the eye had the gun wrenched out of Sadler's hand and into the Doc's.

The Captain screamed as he was sent flying backwards again and this time he was pinned up against the wall at the back of the room.

"I want to turn Queens Evidence" he shrieked.

Before anyone could think to stop her the Doc marched forward, firing repeatedly.

Sadler's body jerked under the onslaught of bullets. He gasped and coughed, blood surging up his throat and spilling over his jaw.

The Doc stopped about five feet from the wall, aligned her head and body with her extended arm...

"Guess again you murdering bastard"... and fired one last round, this time aiming between the man's eyes. The pain-filled look of surprise on the man's face would keep her warm on many a cold night.

Doc studied the dead man for a second longer with a chillingly calm expression on her own face. Slowly, she lowered the weapon, then turned and strode away. She caught Dean's gaze and tipped her head slightly in salute, then left the room.

The hunter heard her footsteps receding down the hall.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The five men left alive in the room turned to leave.

Dean cast a glance Sam's way that was easy to read.

_You came a little too close there Sammy._

Sam gazed back, conveying his gratitude for his brother's attempt to shield him from yet another bullet.

The men caught up with the Doc at the top of the stairwell. She was leaning against the wall, one leg bent at the knee with her foot also planted on the wall, smoking a cigarette. As Terry and Clink approached she silently held out two unlit smokes and a lighter. The Sergeant and his corporal took them eagerly, lit them and sucked in a huge lungful.

Sam watched in confusion. She's a doctor and she smokes?

Dean glanced at Sam with a small smile. He hadn't smoked in a long time but he was definitely feeling the urge to light up now. The fear and adrenaline rush he'd felt at seeing Sam on the business end of Sadler's pistol was just starting to wear off, and he felt exhausted.

A few minutes later the group had left the warehouse and picked up Bobby.

Bobby glanced back at the building. He didn't need to ask what had happened. But one thing was bothering him.

"Boys? What did he have on you? You got those files already?"

Dean and Sam looked at each other, eyes wide. In all the confusion they'd forgotten about that. They both turned to go back, and came face to face with the Doc.

"I'll deal with that," she offered quietly. She pushed the boys gently back up the road, with the others following.

When she stopped and faced the building again, the men stood and watched.

That glow was back in her eyes.

The building shook, tiny tremors snaking through the ground.

The glow became fierce as the shaking grew, then the building slowly collapse in on itself with fire raging from every window and doorway.

_Whatever files Sadler had on the boys, they soon turned to ash. The body of the Captain went up in flames, his skin peeling away from his body. Filing cabinets melted into liquid and computer terminals exploded, just before the ceiling gave way…._

Doc gave a grim smile of satisfaction. "That felt good."

Terry went to stand beside his cousin and in a shocked voice announced "Well fuck my arse and call me Gerald!" He shook his head admiringly. "You _have_ been practicing."

The Doc laughed at him, then turned to face Sam and Dean, her face growing serious.

"This won't be the end of it, but it might hold them off for long enough."

The cars were in sight by now. Chaz offered the boys a salute. "You keep your heads down." Then he was in the car, accelerating down the road.

Terry stepped forward, extending his hand. Dean immediately accepted it and shook it warmly.

"Thanks for everything man. We couldn't have done it without you." Dean muttered.

Terry put up a hand, stopping him. "I'm sure you could, but it doesn't hurt to accept a little help now and then. Take care of each other lads. I'm sure we'll run into each other again one day." After shaking Sam's hand he strode off down the road to retrieve the car the Doc had hot wired earlier. He didn't look back.

Clink nodded to the Winchesters and followed, sensing that the Doc needed a private moment with the boys.

He was right. The Doc smiled at Sam and Dean. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a small vial of a strange looking liquid and handed it to Sam. "That's for your leg. Make sure you change the dressing on it soon; infections really are a bad idea."

To Dean she handed something else. It was a slip of paper with some numbers on it.

He looked at it frowning. "Your cell phone number?" He grinned suddenly, thinking he'd just got lucky. "Really?"

The Doc chuckled. "Perhaps one day Dean, but we're all a little busy fighting off the start of an apocalypse, so a rain check may be in order." She pointed to the paper. "That's a secure line," and the way she said it told him that it really _was_ secure; he wasn't about to ask. "Should you ever again find yourself in need of a little extra help."

She raised herself onto tip toe and whispered in Dean's ear. "Don't hesitate."

"I don't even know your name." Dean commented, a little taken aback.

"No. You don't." Was all the answer he was gonna get.

Sam shook his head. How did his brother do it? A rain check on a date with a witch for Christ sake!

Hearing Sam's soft laughter, the Doc studied him.

"You ok Sam?"

Sam looked into her eyes. "The visions kept happening, wouldn't leave me alone…." His eyes filled with fear and confusion. "I don't know what to do."

"You will Sam. When the time is right you'll know exactly what to do." Was the soft reply.

"Doc?" He continued when the Doc merely gazed at him, "what'll you do now?"

The glow was back.

_We'll be watching out for you._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

_**Two days later….**_

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to Motorhead's Liar, thankful that he finally had his baby back with him.

"Never again sweetheart. I'm never leaving you on the side of the road again." He cooed softly.

Sam rolled his eyes.

Shortly after saying their goodbyes, Bobby had driven the Winchesters back to their motel. It was another long ride and the brothers had fallen asleep almost as soon as they got their seatbelts on.

When Dean had seen the Impala sitting in the parking lot, safe and sound, he'd yelped, rushed over and, much to Sam's embarrassment, had damn near humped the thing.

Bobby had arranged for the car to be picked by a local gas station whilst the boys had been "runnin' round the wilderness playin' Rambo", as he so succinctly put it.

Sam sure was glad to be outta that fucking forest for once. He relaxed in the passenger seat and tried unsuccessfully to make his injured leg comfortable. It still hurt from time to time, but the Doc's gift had been a god-send. Sam didn't know what was in it, but it smelled of peppermint with an underlying hint of oranges.

Whatever. He didn't care, he was just glad he could get some decent pain-free sleep at night, in warm clean sheets and decent food that didn't contain traces of rabbit.

Ok so it meant endless trashy hotels and fast food, but it had to be better than sleeping under a tree and eating Bugs Bunny. He closed his eyes.

Dean glanced at his brother when he heard him sigh. The smile left his face for a second as the dark thoughts of the last few days haunted him.

He shook the feelings off. Sam was alive; Sam was still here where he belonged.

And now they had another hunt to take care of.

"Hey Sammy? You ready to kick some poltergeist-ass?"

Sam cracked open one eye and glared at his brother. "It's Sam."

Dean grinned as they sped away into the morning sun.

**Epilogue**

Over the coming months the brothers were sent various newspaper clippings anonymously in the mail. It was always in the same kind of manila envelope, with no return address, note or clue as to who the sender was.

The articles were all along the same theme.

"30 year old Stewart Harper was found dead this morning…."

"41 year old Greg Williams was killed last night…."

"36 year old Daniel Maccarthy was found dead in his apartment…."

In each case the cops had no leads or clues.

But the Winchesters knew.

_We'll be watching out for you._

_**In loving memory of Skunk and Bastard.**_

That's it boys and girls. Hope you've all said your goodbyes to Terry, Clink, Chaz and the Doc. But I'm fairly sure we'll be seeing them again in the not too distant future.

Many thanks for your reviews. It's kept me encouraged throughout this story.

CUA?

Kind Regards,

ST.xxx.


End file.
